
^OlLMORESlWrtS- 



GEO.F.COOLEDGE & BROTHER. 



THE LIFE 



NATHANAEL GREENE, 



MAJOR-GENERAL IN THE ARMY OF THE REVOLUTION. 



EDITED BY 

W. GILMORE SIMMS, Esq, 

H 
AUTHOR OF "LIFE OF MARION," " CAPT. JOHN SMITH," ETC. 




NEW YORK: 

GEORGE F. COOLEDGE & BROTHER, 

PUBLISHERS AND BOOKSELLERS, 
323 PEARL STREET. 



\>of^ - 






Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1849, 

By GEORGE F. COOLEDGE & BROTHER, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, in and for the 

bouthern Distilct of New York. 



STERKOTYPED BY C. C. SAVAGE, 
13 Chambere Street, N. Y. 




ADVERTISEMENT 



In examining and revising for the publishers the man- 
uscript of the present work, the editor has consulted 
nearly all the volumes v^hich promised to have any bear- 
ing upon the subject. He has had before him the copi- 
ous biographical sketches of Johnson, and the several 
volumes of Lee, Ramsay, Moultrie, Marshall, Tarleton, , ,, 
Graydon, and others, not forgetting the very graceful " / 
memoir of Greene, from the pen of his grandson, 
recently published in the collection of Sparks. In ref- 
erence to the latter writer, he begs leave to express the 
hope that he will persevere in the intention of giving to 
the public a more elaborate performance on the same 
subject. There is much that is obscure in the history, 
much that is provocative of discussion, and needing to 
be discussed, which the nari'ow limits of a duodecimo 
must necessarily exclude. Who better prepared than 
himself to do justice to the great public services and 
private worth of his grandsire 1 



CONTENTS 



CHAPTER I. 

Introductory. — Family of Greene. — His Early Education. — Occupation. 
— Studies. — Intimacies. — Resolution and Strength of Character - page 9 

CHAPTER IL 

Youthful Habits. — Parental DiscipHue. — Progress from Books to Poli- 
tics. — Military Studies and Maniage 20 

CHAPTER III. 

Battle of Lexington. — Rhode Island Army of Observation. — Greene 
its General. — Is made a Brigadier in the Continental Service. — Com- 
mands on Long Island. — Raised to the Rank of Major-General. — Foit 
Lee. — Fort Washington. — Retreat through New Jersey. — Battles of 
Trenton and Princeton 30 

CHAPTER IV. 

The AiTiiy in Winter duarters. — Greene sent on a Mission to Con- 
gress. — Explores the Highlands. — Manoeuvres of the British. — 
Greene in Command of a Division. — Conspicuous in the Batrie of 
Brandywine — and in that of Germantown. — Sent against Cornwallis. 
— Retires with the Army upon Valley Forge 45 

CHAPTER V. 

Greene becomes Quartermaster- General. — The British evacuate Phila- 
delphia. — Pursued by Washington. — The Battle of Monmouth. — 
The Conduct of Greene in that Battle. — Joins Sullivan in an Attempt 
on Newport — Engages the British. — Retires before them on the 
Approach of Clinton 64 

CHAPTER VL 

Greene defends SuUivan for the Affair in Rhode Island. — DiflSculties 
with Congress in regard to the Duties of Quartermaster-General. 
— Anecdote of his Brother. — Resigns from his Office, and offends 
Congress. — Debates in that Body. — Greene commands at the Battle 

of Springfield 79 

1* 



6 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER VII. 

Demonstrations on New York. — Treason of Arnold. — Greene appointed 
to the Post at West Point. — Gates's Defeat. — Greene succeeds him 
in Command of the Southern Army. — Proceeds to the South. — Joins 
the Army at Charlotte, N. C— Treatment of Gates - - - 97 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Glimpse of the past Progress of the War in the South. — Condition of 
the Country and of the Army when Greene takes Command. — His 
Difficulties — Resources — Policy. — Moves from Charlotte to Pee Dee. 
— Marion's Movements. — Comvs^allis. — Morgan. — Tarleton pursues 
Morgan. — Is defeated at the Cowpens 110 

CHAPTER IX. 

Morgan's Retreat before Cornwallis. — Greene joins him on the Cataw- 
ba. — Condition of the American Army. — Militia collects under Da- 
vidson. — British pass the Catawba. — Death of Davidson. — Morgan 
Retreats. — Passes the Yadkin. — Skirmish with the Rearguard. — An- 
ecdote of Greene 132 

CHAPTER X. 

Continued Pursuit of the Americans by Cornwallis. — Greene medi- 
tates a Stand at Guilford. — Condition of his Army. — Continues the 
Retreat through North Carolina. — Deludes Cornwallis, who pursues 
a Detachment under Williams, while the main Army of the Ameri- 
cans crosses the River Dan in security 144 

CHAPTER XI. 

The Armies watch each other. — The Militia collect under Pickens 
and Caswell. — Cornwallis retires upon Hillsborough. — Greene re- 
crosses the Dan. — Pickens and Lee operate successfully upon the 
British Detachments. — Sanguinary Defeat of Loyalists under Pyles, 
and Pursuit of Tarleton 161 

CHAPTER XIL 

Strategies of the two Armies. — Cornwallis surrounded by the Partisans. 
— Their Activity and Audacity. — He attempts to elude them, and cut 
Greene off from his Detachments.— He pursues Williams, who es- 
capes him. — Cornwallis retires, and Greene prepares for Action - 173 

CHAPTER XIII. 

The Battle of Guilford.— Its Vicissitudes.— Duel between Colonel Stu- 
art and Captain Smith.— Slaughter among the Guards.— Retreat 
of the Americans ... 183 



CONTENTS. 7 

CHAPTER XIV. 
Comwallis Retreats— Is pursued by Greene— Escapes.— His Condition, 
and that of the Americans. — Greene's Policy. — Discontinues the 
Pursuit of Comwallis — Mai-ches to South Carolina — Appears before 
Camden — and offers Battle to Lord Raw don 199 

CHAPTER XV, 

Comwallis pursues his Route to Virginia.— The Partisan Warfare 
in Carolina. — Marion. — Captures Port Watson. — Greene's Move- 
ments. — Raw don marches out from Camden and gives him Battle. — 

Battle of Hobkirk's Hill 212 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Rawdon attempts the Camp of Greene. — Evacuates and destroys 
Camden. — Capture of Fort Motte and other Posts by the Partisans. — 
Rawdon at Monk's Comer. — Marion takes Georgetown — Pickens 
Augusta. — Greene besieges Ninety-Six — Attempts to storm it, and is 

defeated with Loss 225 

CHAPTER XVIL 

Greene retreats from Ninety-Six. — Is pursued by Rawdon. — The latter 
evacuates Ninety-Six, and retires toward the Seaboard. — Greene 
turns upon and pursues him. — Various Movements of the Armies. — 
Rawdon at Orangeburg. — Greene offers him Battle. — He declines it. 
— Is strengthened by Cruger, and Greene retires and encamps 
among the High Hills of Santee 245 

CHAPTER XVIIL 
Incursion of the Partisans under Sumter into the Lower Country. — 
Capture of Dorchester. — Alarm in Charleston. — Attempt on the Post 
at Biggins. — Abandoned by the British. — Pursuit of Coates. — Affair 
at GLuinby Bridge. — Battle at Shubrick's 258 

CHAPTER XIX. 

The Camp of the Hills. — Greene's Ai-my and his Labor. — The Capture 
and Execution of General Hayne. — Excitement of Greene and the 
Camp. — Retaliation threatened. — Stuart in Command of the British 
Army. — Successes of American Cavalry. — Greene's Army in Motion. 
—Retreat of Stuart.— Takes Post at Eutaw.— Greene approaches - 269 

CHAPTER XX. 

Battle of Eutaw Springs 282 

CHAPTER XXL 

'The American Army retires to the Hills of the Santee. — Its Condition 
and that of the British. — The Movements of the Partisans. — Stuart at 
Wantoot. — The Fall of Comwallis. — The Hopes it inspired. — Their 
Disappointment. — Greene marches for the Edisto. — Rapid Approach 
to Dorchester. — Flight of the Garrison. — Stuart Retreats. — Alarm in 
the British Army. — The Americans take Post on the Round O. - 297 



8 CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

American Attempt on the British Post at John's Island. — Its Failure. — 
Second Attempt. — Withdrawal of the Gan-ison. — The Legislature 
assembles at Jacksonborough. — Its Character. — Governor Rutledge. 
— His Speech. — Compliments Greene. — Address of the Senate and 
House of Representatives to Greene. — The latter Body votes him 
Ten Thousand Guineas.— Liberality of Georgia and North Carolina - 315 

CHAPTER XXIIL 

The State of the Army. — Wayne's Victories in Georgia. — Discontents 
among the Troops of Greene. — Treachery of Soldiers of the Pennsyl- 
vania Line. — Their Detection and Punishment. — Continued Distress 
and Sickness of the Army. — Movements of the British. — Marion 
defeats Eraser. — Affair on the Combahee. — Death of Laurens. — 
Pickens punishes the Tories and the Indians - - - - 325 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

Greene's Necessities. — He resorts to Impressment. — The British pre- 
pare to evacuate Charleston. — That Event takes place on the 14th of 
December, 1782. — The American Army enter the City. — Their 
Reception. — The Joy of the Inhabitants. — Condition of Public Affairs 
in Carolina. — Discontents and Difficulties. — Sufferings of the Army. 
— Mutiny. — Army Disbanded. — Greene revisits the North. — His Re- 
ception by Congress. — His Monetary Difficulties. — Greene returns to 
Carolina - - 337 

CHAPTER XXV. 

His Removal to Georgia. — Challenged by Captain Gunn. — He dechnes 
the Challenge. — The Extent, Prospect, Peace, and Beauty of his 
Domains. — His Sickness and Death. — Public Soitow and Honors on 
this Event. — His Character. — Conclusion 351 

APPENDIX. 

Southern Army. — A Narative of the Campaign of 1780, by Colonel 
Otho Holland Williams, Adjutant- General 359 

A Narrative of Events relative to the Southern Army subsequent to the 
Arrival of General Gate's broken Battalions at Hillsborough, 1780 - 383 



LIFE 



OP 



NATHAIAEL GREENE. 



CHAPTER I. 



Introductory. — Family of Greene. — His Early Education. — Occupation. — 
Studies. — Intimacies. — Resolution and Strength of Character. 

The events which brought about the separation of the 
American colonies of GJ-reat Britain from the mother- 
country, have, somewhat improperly, we think, gone un- 
der the general name of revolution. We should prefer 
to substitute for this word, that of transition, as denoting 
a natural progress in history, rather than such an ex- 
treme and violent change as is implied by the term in 
most familiar use. To the thoughtful and philosophic 
mind there was nothing extreme or improbable — nothing 
which the political seer might not readily have foreseen — 
in the progress of opinion and necessity, in America, to 
that final action which severed the ungenial ligaments, 
which, from ties had grown into bonds, by which the col- 
onies were united to the mother-country. Their growth 
and population, the gradually unfolding resources of their 
territories, the embarrassments which attended their po- 
litical intercourse with G-reat Britain, the pecuniary ex- 
actions of the parent empire, and, above all, the humilia- 



10 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

ting character of the relation in which they stood to a 
country which claimed to govern them from abroad, and 
by those who were not indigenous to the soil — subject- 
ing the native mind to a denial at once degrading to its 
character, and ruinous to the national interests — were 
sufficient reasons by which the separation could have 
been and was foreshown. The emancipation of the 
Americans from foreign rule, was the natural conse- 
quence of increasing numbers, and enlarged intelligence. 
The infant had grown into manhood. It was capable 
of going alone ; and the impulse which sundered the 
leading-strings by which its movements were confined, 
was the fruit of a simple progi-ess, step by step upward, 
to the possession and the exercise of a natural and inev- 
itable strength. It was the great good fortune of the 
Americans that such was the case in their history — that 
there was no abrupt or premature outbreak which would 
have found them too weak for a struggle, which, under 
such a circumstance, would only have served to rivet 
their bands more firmly, and prolong the term of their 
endurance. This must have been the event had their 
history been that of a revolution — a change rather than 
a progress. But the progress found them prepared with 
all the necessary resources. Their numbers were not 
inadequate to the struggle ; the intelligence of the peo- 
ple made the necessity for it a familiar and expanding 
thought ; and, when, in course of time, they could evolve 
from their own ranks, statesmen and warriors who were 
capable of their government as an independent nation, 
it was permitted, as in the case of the Israelites — when 
they could boast of prophets, like Moses and Aaron, 
equal to any of the Egyptian magi — that they should be 
conducted out of bondage. When Virginia could pro- 
duce such great men as Washington, Patrick Henry, and 
Jefferson ; JMassachusetts, Hancock and Adams ; and 



THE FAMILY OF GREENE. 11 

Carolina, her Marions, Moultries, and Rutledges — there 
was surely no proper necessity to look to a foreign 
country for the sage or soldier. It is the curious and 
conclusive fact in our history, at the beginning of the 
struggle for independence, that it found all the colonies 
in possession of some one or more remarkably endowed 
persons to whom the conduct of their affairs in coun- 
cil, and of their honor in the field, might be confided 
safely. Among the men thus constituting the moral 
stock of character with which the great national move- 
ment was begun, it is the boast of Rhode Island to have 
made one of the most valuable contributions, in the per- 
son of Nathanael Greene. 

The family of Greene was English. It left the old 
for the new world somewhere in the seventeenth cen- 
tury, one branch of the family settling at Plymouth, 
whence it subsequently removed to Providence river; 
while the other established itself in the township of War- 
wick, upon lands procured from the Narraganset Indi- 
ans. Here, upon the banks of the stream which still 
bears the aboriginal name of Potowhommett, Nathanael 
Greene, the third in descent from John, the original set- 
tler, built himself a mill and forge. The occupation of 
the blacksmith seems to have been in no wise detrimen- 
tal to the social position of the family. They were' 
among the first European settlers of the country ; their 
career was marked by usefulness, and was not without 
its distinctions. John Greene, the founder of the family, 
was one of the colonists who appeared in the first per- 
manent organization of the province under the charter of 
Charles the Second, and others of its members rose to 
ofiices of dignity and trust in the administration of the 
afi*airs of the colony. In new settlements, which suffer 
from a thousand influences of which a high condition of 
civilization affords no just idea, the distinguishing merit of 



12 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

the citizen must necessarily be his usefulness. He who, 
in such a condition of society, is prepared to meet and 
to overcome even its meanest necessities, is a benefactor, 
and in just degree with the importance of his seiTice 
will be his social distinctions. Nathanael Greene, the 
sire, suffered accordingly no diminution of rank when 
he graced his arms with a sledge-hammer ; and it is one 
of the honorable distinctions, in the descendant whose 
career is the subject of this volume, that he was duly 
taught to wield it also. The region in which this sway 
was maintained, on the waters of the Potowhommett, is 
still designated by filial pride, in connexion with this 
history; and the ancient mill itself, and the rude forge 
at which, father and son, the Greenes toiled, year by 
year, with praiseworthy perseverance, are still subjects 
of equal admiration and interest to all who delight in 
the upward rise of an ambition that founds its hopes 
entirely upon a compliance with the demands of duty. 
Here, too, stood the humble house of stone, a single 
story, in which Nathanael Greene, the subject of our 
memoir — the second of six sons by a second marriage — 
was born on the 27th of May, 1742. He was the fourth 
of eight sons whom the father raised to manhood. Of 
his infancy we know nothing. It was probably a some- 
what cheerless one. His mother died when he was yet 
a child ; and his father, as we may imagine, was some- 
thing of a Spartan, in the guise of a quaker preacher. 
This venerable man is represented as filling the pulpit 
with rare ability ; preaching with a force and eloquence, 
a simplicity and shrewdness, which continued to edify 
the meeting-house at East Greenwich for nearly forty 
years. The functions of a pastor, however earnestly 
prosecuted, found him in no degree forgetful of, or indif- 
ferent to, the domestic stewardship. His boys followed 
him at the forge and at the farm, and accompanied him 



HIS YOUTHFUL CHARACTERISTICS. 13 

to the place of prayer, with the most unvarying regu- 
larity. He was a rigid disciplinarian — an authority that 
never once suffered itself to be disputed, without testing 
the strength of the offender by the certainty of the pun- 
ishment. Temperate and frugal himself, the training to 
which he subjected his boys — a training which was 
rather strict and rigid than severe — naturally produced 
similar habits among them ; and they passed, by a natural 
progress, as they acquired strength for these several 
employments, through all the labors of the mill, the 
forge, and the farm, until they grew into athletic young 
men, healthy and vigorous of person, and calm and reso- 
lute of mind. In one respect, the education which 
G-reene afforded to his sons was perhaps deficient. His 
own lessons had been simply religious. Of books, he 
knew none but the Bible, and regarded the sapred vol- 
ume as superseding the necessity for every other. The 
humble elements of an English country-school, the les- 
sons of which were sought only during the short, bleak 
days of winter, were not materially calculated to modify 
the effects of this education, which accordingly impressed 
itself upon the whole character and career of the subject 
of our memoir, in a manner which could not be mistaken. 
Hence the simplicity of his habits, the equable tone of 
his mind, his straightforwardness and integrity, the style 
in which he wrote, and the inflexibility of his purpose. 
These characteristics, however decidedly his own, were 
not entirely at variance with a mood which was gentle 
in its nature, and a disposition to society and its pleas- 
antries. Young G-reene was not indifferent to the sports 
of youth. The strictness of his training, in all proba- 
bility increased their attractions in his eyes ; and good 
limbs and an athletic constitution enabled him to excel in 
the usual amusements of a rustic life. He was chief 
among the actors in all rural sports ; a leader among the 
2 



14 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

revellers in all the wholesome and hearty enjoyments 
of the country; and quite an authority, at an early pe- 
riod, among his youthful associates, — proving clearly 
certain peculiar endov^^ments in himself, w^hich, by tacit 
consent, were admitted to have sway among their coun- 
cils. Rustic superstition contributed to confirm this 
authority. His nativity was cast by a Doctor Spencer, 
who united the kindred professions of accoucheur and 
astrologer ; and he predicted the future distinctions, dis- 
guised as usual in a happy generality, to which our hero 
was to attain. He was to be a mighty man in Israel. 

The prediction promised to be verified. The defer- 
ence which his young associates paid to his genius, 
extended to his stern and exemplary father. He was 
observed to yield to his wishes and opinions an attention 
which no other of the family could obtain. The natural 
ascendency of mind was felt in spite of the deficiencies 
of education. These deficiencies were of the extremest 
kind, and continued until our subject was fourteen years. 
It was then that he formed an intimacy vnth a lad named 
Giles, a student of the university of Rhode Island, who 
spent his vacation at East Greenwich. This boy, who 
was probably only a clever sophomore, awakened in the 
mind of young Greene all its latent ambition. He made 
him a discontent, by showing him that there were other 
lessons which wisdom might teach, of importance to the 
career of man, beyond those, however valuable in them- 
selves and vital, which took care of his spiritual inter- 
ests. It was from this moment — and from the lesson so 
caught up — that Greene began to- direct his attention to 
the acquisition of books. The shelves of his friends 
were ransacked with the view to the satiation of this 
newly-aroused appetite. The labors of his hands were 
voluntarily increased, that he might procure means to 
purchase the precious volumes which he could not other- 



HIS STUDIES ENLARGED. 15 

wise obtain. His usual sports were foregone ; the pleas- 
ures and toys of the child beguiled and satisfied him no 
longer ; he was no more a boy, but a student, appropri- 
ating every moment of leisure — nay, without waiting 
for the moment of leisure — but beside the anchor forge* 
or the hopper of the mill, wherever the occupation would 
permit of the indulgence, he sat or stood, book in hand, 
dividing his time jealously between the toils of necessity 
and the object of the passionate desires of his mind. 

This habit was not grateful to his father. He regarded 
it as a form of idleness, and perhaps, in some sort, as a 
profanity. Why should he want other books than the 
Bible? That had been enough for him; and the self- 
esteem which made so large an element in the father's 
character, naturally resented the enlarged appetites of 
the son, as so much presumption. But, as the boy con- 
scientiously fulfilled all his duties — as neither indolence 
nor neglect of his tasks, nor slovenliness in their per- 
formance, could be charged upon him — the sire did 
not attempt to prevent him in the pursuit of his new 
enjoyments. Gradually, the old man became so far 
reconciled to the earnest and noble perseverance of the 
youth, as to consider the necessity of seeking for him a 
teacher of more capacity than had hitherto been thought 
sufiicient for the purposes of education. He probably 
began to feel, in the influence which his son exercised 
upon himself and others, and in the exti-aordinary pas- 
sion which he betrayed for books, that he was really 
destined to a career very superior to that of the village 
blacksmith. Lessons in Latin and mathematics, were 
obtained from a man named Maxwell, and young Greene 
soon formed a slight acquaintance with the ancients, 
through one of their own tongues, and found himself 
most decidedly at home in the company of Euclid. Of 
geometry, in its application to navigation and surveying^ 



16 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

he became a master ; and his mind was now put doubly 
in possession of his materials, by being trained in their 
methodical management. Horace and Cesar were the 
favorites of his taste, and beguiled his imagination ; 
while Euclid furnished the necessary exercise for his 
thoroughly-awakened and shai-per intellect. Thus, toil- 
ing equally in mind and body — rising to the labors of 
the forge when necessary, and sinking at every oppor- 
tunity into the well-worn seat beside it, where he had 
hurriedly laid down his book — he continued to increase 
his mental possessions, without forfeiting, as is so com- 
monly the case, any of the vigorous muscle, or admirable 
health and strength of body, which the sports and labors 
of his youth had enabled him to acquire. His knowledge 
of books, speaking comparatively, had greatly increased 
in the brief period since he had made the acquaintance 
of the sophomore. An event was now to occur, which 
should contribute greatly to the proper direction of those 
aims, which, however profitable in their acquisitions, as 
compared with the past, were yet somewhat deficient 
in method, organization, and singleness of purpose. A 
happy accident was to order and direct the somewhat 
desultory course of study which he had hitherto pursued. 
It was the custom of Crreene, whenever his labors had 
afforded him the means to make any addition to his 
library, to visit Newport in search of a book. On these 
occasions, a little shallop, which was kept at the mills of 
Potowhommett, and sent periodically to Newport and 
other towns along the bay of Narraganset, with the 
manufactures of the mills, supplied the opportunity. 
Greene usually worked his passage when he visited 
the town, seeking a market for his wares, the product 
of his labors in his own time. It was on one of these 
voyages, made with this object, when he was about sev- 
enteen years old, that he hastened to a bookseller in 



FINDS A GUIDE TO KNOWLEDGE. 17 

Newport, prepared to lay out his petty earnings for a 
book. But what book '? His knowledge of literature 
was quite too limited to suggest to him the name of the 
volume which should be most acceptable ; and when the 
bookseller naturally asked what book he wanted, he 
could only blush in his ignorance, and stand confused 
and silent before the inquirer. It happened that a third 
person was present on this occasion, and became inter- 
ested in the ingenuous confusion of the boy. This was 
Dr. Stiles, then a clergyman, and subsequently well known 
as president of Yale college. He regarded G-reene with 
eyes of curiosity; and, in his appearance — his simple 
garb, begrimed possibly by the labors of the forge, and 
whitened by the mill — he conceived instantly the strug- 
gle which was in progress, of a naturally strong and 
well-endowed mind, contending with equal ignorance 
and poverty. He engaged the boy in conversation, and 
his impressions were confirmed. The conclusion was, 
that Stiles took the boy to his house, counselled and 
encouraged him, became his ally in the pursuit of learn- 
ing, and gave a proper direction to his tastes and studies. 
This help relieved him from all future embarrassment 
in seeking the means of knowledge. He had found 
something better than a teacher — he had found a guide ; 
and it now became the important object with our hero 
to revisit Newport as frequently as possible. His pro- 
cess for the attainment of this object was quite character- 
istic. He made himself a skilful boatman. He studied 
the navigation of the river. He was finally promoted to 
be master of the shallop ; and the bookseller of Newport 
found him frequently at his counter, gazing upon his 
shelves, with the look of one who asks himself, sighing 
secretly the while, " Shall I ever be the. owner of such a 
treasure as this 1" His private stock of books was cer- 
tainly a small one. We know that he possessed the 
2* 



18 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

Logic of Watts, Locke's famous Essay, the able volume 
of Ferguson, on Civil Society, and a few other stand- 
ard works, like these, of an educational character- 
That he spared no labor by which he might increase 
these treasures, may be inferred from the fact, that his 
heavy labors at the forge finally produced that lameness 
of the right foot which attended him through life ; while, 
to enable himself to pass from the coarse work of the 
forge to the manufacture of those finer fabrics on which 
his own perquisites chiefly depended, he has been known 
to grind off* the callosities from his hands at the grind- 
stone, in order to give them the necessary pliancy and 
delicacy of touch ; and this when he was studying logic 
and philosophy ! 

His visits to Stiles and Newport brought him to the 
knowledge of Lindley Murray. The latter was of a 
quaker family, as well as Greene, and was then on an 
excursion through the quaker settlements of the eastern 
colonies. A sympathy in their common objects of pur- 
suit brought the two young men closely together ; and 
Murray accompanied Greene to Potowhommett, where 
he so prevailed upon the father, that young Greene was 
permitted to return the visit the following winter to 
Murray in New York. The latter had been particularly 
well educated. His father, conscious of the unwise 
hostility or indifference of the quaker sect to all liberal 
studies, had done his best to make his son superior to all 
their prejudices. His acquisitions were naturally shared 
with Greene. We may be sure that the blacksmith and 
mill-boy, whom we have seen grinding down his fingers 
in order to acquire the means of knowledge, did not 
suffer the opportunity to escape for procuring it on 
more easy terms, and through the pleasant medium of 
friendship. It was while on this visit to New York that 
he gave a new proof of that decision of character, that 



INOCULATED WITH SMALL-POCK. 19 

forethought and superiority over his associates and edu- 
cation, which were the distinguishing traits of his char- 
acter through hfe. The small-pock was prevailing with 
great severity in New York. Greene knew the super- 
stitious dread which was entertained in regard to this 
disease ; was aware of its real dangers ; and felt the 
importance of passing the crisis, at a moment when his 
mind could contemplate it calmly, and when it could not 
interfere with any pressing employments. He availed 
himself of the opportunity, to become inoculated with 
it, and a blemish in one of his eyes, which did not, how- 
ever, impair the sight, was the consequence. The pres- 
ent courage of the boy in this instance, saved him from 
all future apprehensions of a disease which continued 
to spread terror through the country. 



20 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 



CHAPTER 11. 

Youthful Habits.— Parental Discipline.— Progi-ess from Books to Politics.— 
Military Studies and Marriage. 

We have shown young Greene as a student. It will 
be admitted that the conditions of his career have been 
sufficiently arduous as well in letters as in war. But the 
mind most resolute on acquisition will yet need a respite 
from its toils. The body demands relief which no en- 
thusiasm of the intellect will be able entirely to with- 
hold, particularly in the case of one, whose physique, like 
that of G-reene, is well developed, and whose temper- 
ament is sanguine. We have seen that his boyish habit, 
in the matter of sport, was quite unquakerish — that he 
loved, and usually led, in the recreations of his boyish 
mates. These early propensities did not desert him as 
he grew older, and in consequence of his newly-awa- 
kened passion for books. His character, though really 
sedate and temperate, was anything but morose. His 
tendencies were decidedly social. Though satisfied with 
a single meal per day, and indulging in no beverage 
more potent than a solitary cup of tea or coffee in the 
same space of time, yet there were some pleasures in 
which he was ever ready to indulge to a degree which 
was apparently inconsistent with his ordinary habits. 
Rising at the dawn of day, and laboring at forge or 
farm while the day lasted — and sometimes, at his own 
labors, to a late hour in the night — it would seem only 
reasonable to suppose that he was glad when he could 
retire to his couch, and that he slept soundly as soon as he 



ELUDES HIS father's VIGILANCE. 21 

touched the pillow. Such, for a time, was no doubt the 
opinion of his sober quaker father. But he was mista- 
ken. Young Greene was at an age when the heart par- 
ticularly needs society — when the instincts of the youth 
naturally incline to communion with the other sex, and 
when the impulses acknowledge few restraints of mind or 
body, of strength sufficient to keep them from the grati- 
fication of a favorite desire. Greene's quaker education 
might have inculcated a sufficient hostility to dancing, to 
keep him from the exercise, but that, in its indulgence, 
it conducted him to femal5 society. At eighteen or 
twenty the desire for such communion must be acknowl- 
edged as sufficiently legitimate for youth. It is, indeed, 
one of the securities of virtue. But the father of Greene 
was a quaker and not a philosopher. He made no allow- 
ance for such an appetite, and the son was very soon per- 
suaded that, if his passions were to be gratified in this 
respect, it could only be in the wholesome ignorance of 
his proceeding, in which he could keep the old gentle- 
man. The household v^^as a very sober one. At a cer- 
tain hour doors and windows were to be closed and 
bolted, and all good boys were to be in bed. Young 
Green obeyed the requisition ; but when the father was 
safe in the arms of sleep, and in full faith that all his 
family were similarly disposed of, he might be seen let- 
ting himself down from the eaves, and speeding away to 
the happy places where his young associates were busy 
in the rustic dance. Thus, night after night, in the depth 
of winter, would he speed away from the silent home- 
stead, and mingle with the village revellers. His lame- 
ness was too slight to offer any serious obstacle to the 
inartificial movements of a country revel ; and, in thus 
affording to his limbs and blood the exercises which his 
nature found equally agreeable and necessary, he did not 
forfeit in any degree, or impair the value, of his book 



22 LIFE OF NATHANIEL GREENE. 

acquisitions. On these occasions he gave a free loose 
to a temperament which was at once impulsive and amia- 
ble ; and the usually sedate student, and laborious worker 
at hammer and hopper, proved as lighthearted as any of 
his neighbors. Before dawn, he was again at home, 
crowding with sleep the brief hours which were left him 
ere he should be summoned to his daily tasks. But there 
is a proverb that threatens the safety of any pitcher 
which goes too often to the well. Whether frequent es- 
cape had made young Greene careless, or whether he 
was betrayed by some hostile companion, it matters not; 
but the quaker sire had his suspicions awakened in re- 
gard to the practices of his son. To be told that the son 
whom he valued over all the rest, on whom he had be- 
stowed the best education, and to whom he fondly looked 
as his successor on the floor of the meeting-house, was 
guilty of such a profanity as dancing implied, was to 
awaken all his indignation, and to render him equally 
subtle and strict in his vigilance. He watched the move- 
ments of the youth, and was very soon in possession of the 
most ample proofs of the correctness of his suspicions. 

Greene, as usual, had stolen forth from the house when 
it appeared to be wrapt in slumber. The occasion was 
one of particular attractions. There was a great ball in 
the neighborhood, to which he had been secretly invited. 
He danced till midnight, the gayest of the gay, little 
dreaming of any misadventure. But when he drew nigh 
the homestead, his keen eyes discovered the person of 
his father, paternally waiting, whip in hand, beneath the 
very window through which alone he could find en- 
trance. There was no means of escaping him. The 
stern old quaker was one of that class of people who 
are apt to unite the word and blow together, the latter 
being quite likely to make itself felt before the other. 
In this emergency, conscious that there was no remedy 



IS FLOGGED BY HIS FATHER. 23 

against, or rescue from the rod, young Greene promptly- 
con ceived an idea which suggests a ready capacity for 
military resource. A pile of shingles lay at hand, and 
before he supposed his father to behold his approach, he 
insinuated beneath his jacket a sufficient number of thin 
layers of shingle to shield his back and shoulders from 
the thong. With this secret corslet he approached and 
received his punishment with the most exemplary forti- 
tude. The old man laid on with the utmost unction, little 
dreaming of the secret cause of that hardy resignation 
with which the lad submitted to a punishment which was 
meant to be most exemplary. 

It is doubtful if the father obtained more than a tem- 
porary triumph. Greene could still indulge in his recre- 
ations, as before, and without lessening his capacity for 
duty and acquisition. His sports were never of a kind 
to interfere with his proper performances. They were 
the result of a necessity, such as belongs to all healthful 
bodies, where the nervous energies demand various 
means and opportunities for exercise. His irregularities 
were never of an animal kind, though, in the case of a 
less justly-balanced mind, the ascetic philosophy and 
regimen of the old quaker might have made them so. 
His temperament remained the same, though his studies 
were resumed. His library was gradually enlarging. 
Swift and other writers of what has been — improperly 
perhaps — entitled the Augustan age of English litera- 
ture, became his favorite studies ; and, upon the clear, 
direct, and manly style of the first-named author, he en- 
deavored to model his own. Nor did his mental desires 
limit themselves to literature only and philosophy. The 
possession of Blackstone and other legal writers — to the 
reading of which he was prompted by a law case of 
some difficulty which disturbed the repose of the family 
for some time, in consequence of the death of his two 



24 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

brothers by the first marriage — opened to him a very fair 
knowledge of the principles of English law, and prompted 
his frequent attendance at the neighboring courts, where 
he formed an acquaintance with judges and lawyers, and 
listened with delight to their conflicts. In all these 
modes was he preparing, unconsciously, for that career 
of usefulness and fame through which he was yet to pass, 
under the gradually-increasing discontents and troubles 
of the country. Here, too, he began, for the first time, 
to inform himself in politics. The village courthouse 
was the natural arena for those who loved to engage in 
political debate. Here it was, that young Greene began 
to study and to understand the true relations existing be- 
tween the colonies and the mother-country. This was 
a new and grateful field for a mind rather strong and 
shrewd than fanciful or imaginative — of tendencies 
wholly practical — sedate as well as inquiring, and not 
easily led away from the true objects of study by any of 
its collateral topics. He came, by degrees, to be a poli- 
tician as well as a lawyer. 

His father, however much he might be disposed to 
regard his son as erring in his tastes, was far from being 
insensible to his acquisitions. Our hero naturally as- 
cended to the second place to himself; and became, like 
himself, a strict disciplinarian in the household. His 
brothers were subjected to his authority ; and the whole 
family prospered under this administration. Old Greene 
had not only become the sole proprietor of the Poto- 
whommett mills, but had extended his domain by the 
purchase of another mill at Coventry. This was assigned 
to the management of our Nathanael. He was now in a 
measure his own master. His means were necessarily 
increased, and his library soon grew to a decent and 
well-chosen collection — large at that period — of nearly 
three hundred volumes. His active mind was not satis- 



BECOMES A POLITICIAN. 25 

fled with the selfish concerns of the mill. He took part 
in the affairs of the community. Under his auspices the 
first public school was established in Coventry, and the 
eyes of his neighbors were already fixed upon him as 
one of those men, equally steadfast and intelligent, to 
whom they might properly turn in the moment of neces- 
sity or danger. He was now in his twenty-third year, 
with manners which were at once aQ:reeable and disrni- 
fied — intimate with most of the leading men of the neigh- 
borhood — on terras of familiar intercourse with the 
bench and bar of East Greenwich, the members of which 
were visiters at his father's house — and filled, in conse- 
quence of this position, with all the political excitements 
which naturally formed the habitual subject of discussion 
among such associates. To the examination of the great 
questions which now began to disturb the country, 
Greene bent all the energies of his mind. His quaker 
training was not permitted to defeat his present tenden- 
cies. It had not sufficed to restrain the courage and 
character of his ancestors, when they resisted the perse- 
cutions of the fanatical governor, Winthrop, of Massa- 
chusetts bay, when he declared war against the heretics, 
and sent his petty emissaries on a crusade after the stur- 
dy quaker Gorton ; and, if not sufficiently powerful to 
detain young Greene from the rustic revels of his neigh- 
bors, even when illustrated by the heavy arm and horse- 
whip of his father, it would scarcely prove sufficiently 
imposing to keep a nature, so equally firm and eager, 
from the assertion of an argument on which depended 
alike the principles and the safety of the country. The 
discussion of the stamp-act found him ready to engage 
in politics with a hearty interest, such as might well be 
assumed as fatal to his quakerism. In 1769, a king's cut- 
ter had been taken at Newport. Three years after wit- 
nessed the burning of the Gaspee, in Providence river. 



26 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

Greene shared in the strong popular excitement on these 
occasions, and his expressions were of a nature which 
threatened to draw upon him the severities of govern- 
ment. But, escaping from this danger, he did not the 
less earnestly urge and maintain the sentiments which 
had provoked it ; and, with that foresight which marked 
his character, he now began a series of studies still more 
at variance with the precepts of the quaker, and with 
due reference to the approaching necessities of the coun- 
try. He added to his library several of the best military 
authors of the time, and attended the rude displays of the 
colonial militia, then in course of organization and disci- 
pline throughout the states. This last proceeding out- 
raged all the proprieties of quakerism. He was cited 
before the fathers of the sanctuary for this errantry. A 
committee was appointed to sit upon his case ; but he 
gave them no satisfaction. They were, however, unwil- 
ling to cut oft' the prodigal, and continued to visit and 
exhort him, until, in utter despair of his conversion from 
the errors of his ways, they read him, with a sad solem- 
nity, out of their books of brotherhood. He still pro- 
fessed himself a quaker, and cherished great esteem of 
the sect, but his faith was one that claimed privileges for 
its own, and his respect for the brethren did not prevent 
him from denouncing many of its professors for their 
hypocrisy. 

In 1770, Greene was elected to the general assembly 
of the colony. Such was his popularity, that, from this 
period, even after he took command of the army in the 
south, he continued to be chosen by his constituents. 
As a member of the legislature, without making any 
figure in debate, he commanded the respect of his asso- 
ciates for his integrity, his excellent and manly sense, 
and the general soundness of his judgment. He seldom 
spoke ; but, when he did, it was always with effect, in a 



BECOMES A SOLDIER. 27 

clear, dignified, and unembarrassed manner, which com- 
manded the attention of the house. In cases of difficulty- 
he was an understood authority. On committees of 
importance he was most usually employed. When en- 
voys were sent to Connecticut to concert measures for 
public defence, he was one of the delegates ; and here 
he had an opportunity of renewing his intimacy with his 
fi-iend Stiles, who had become the president of Yale. 
Doubtless, his rank would have been distinguished as a 
politician, but that his peculiar talent preferred another 
field of distinction. It was in 1774 that he threw off 
quakerism entirely, in putting on the habiliments of the 
soldier. He enrolled himself as a member of a corps 
called the Kentish guards, contenting himself with being 
a private soldier, having failed to secure a lieutenancy. 
The Kentish guards were formed upon a favorite British 
model. The corps was composed of the most worthy 
of the neighboring yeomanry. In the war which fol- 
lowed, more than thirty of its members bore commis- 
sions. The time was pressing. Great Britain had 
thrown off* the mask. Her determination was apparent : 
to coerce, rather than conciliate, the refractory colonies. 
The latter were equally ready to declare themselves. 
But the munitions of war were not to be had. Greene, 
in particular, had no firearms. They were not the usual 
furniture of a quaker family. They could only be pro- 
cured in Boston. It was necessary to go thither. An 
old claim upon one of his father's customers, in that 
place, was the pretext for his departure ; and the exter- 
nals of the quaker, the drab coat and the broad brim, 
suggested an adequate^ disguise for our adventurer in 
the prosecution of his ifeal objects. At Boston, Greene 
first beheld a parade jbf regulars. The British troops 
were then in possession of that city. Little did they 
suspect the motives or character of the stranger youth, 



28 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

who looked so innocent in his quaker trim. Closely and 
earnestly did he watch their evolutions, and carefully did 
he treasure up in his memory the few hasty military les- 
sons which he caught up from this survey. But he did not 
neglect the first object of his mission. He succeeded in 
buying a musket with all the necessary accoutrements ; 
and, with the aid of a wagoner, who buried the treasure 
in a heap of straw at the bottom of his wagon, he con- 
trived to smuggle it in safety beyond the garrison and 
guards of the enemy. He was successful in bringing 
with him to Coventry a treasure of still greater value, 
in a British deserter, an excellent drill-officer, to whom 
the Kentish guards were indebted for all that was val- 
uable in their discipline. The success of this enterprise 
secured for young Greene no small eclat among his com- 
panions. The musket thus procured is still preserved 
in the family. One would suppose, from the summary 
which we have given of his employments, that they were 
sufficiently various and absorbing to satisfy the impulse 
and restlessness of any nature. But the enterprise which 
carried the young quaker abroad at midnight to the 
rustic charivari, in defiance of his father's discipline and 
horsewhip, had its special object, apart from the simple 
suggestions of a cheerful temperament seeking commu- 
nion of its fellows. The same year which found Greene 
enrolled among the military, found him enrolled in the 
ranks of another order. In July, 1774, he became the 
husband of Catharine Littlefield, at whose house he had 
chiefly indulged in his propensity for dancing. She was 
an exceedingly engaging damsel, of good family, and 
but eighteen years of age. His position in life might 
now be supposed thoroughly established. It is scarcely 
possible that he should any longer apprehend further 
parental discipline, now that he was a politician, a hus- 
band, and a member of the Kentish guards. It is the 



BECOMES A HUSBAND. 29 

responsibility, if anything, which makes the man. That 
Greene was sensible of this, is naturally to be inferred 
from the recognition of his claims by those around him. 
He was steadily rising in the estimation of his neighbors, 
and in the calm consciousness of his own claims, strength, 
and capacity. 



30 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 



CHAPTER III. 

Battle of Lexington. — Rhode Island Army of Observation. — Greene its 
General. — Is made a Brigadier in the Continental Service. — Commands 
on Long Island. — Raised to the rank of Major- General. — Fort Lee. — 
Fort Washington. — Retreat through New Jersey. — Battles of Trenton 
and Princeton. 

The preliminaries of the conflict were all cleared away 
in the battle of Lexington. Those who still doubted of 
the struggle, hoping against hope, were silenced in the 
thunders of the strife on that occasion. This affair took 
place in the spring of 1775. With the first tidings of 
the battle, the drum of the Kentish guards beat to arms. 
Already they were on their march to Boston, when the or- 
ders of the governor of the province recalled them to their 
homes. The governor was a loyalist. It is curious that, 
with a knowledge of this fact, the whig officers of the 
guards should have obeyed him. They did so, and the 
troops returned, all but four of them, who, procuring 
horses, went at full speed, as volunteers for Boston. Of 
these four, Greene was one ; one of his companions was a 
brother; the remaining two were his most trusty friends. 
He arrived too late for service, but not for distinction. 
His resolute and independent proceeding opened the eyes 
of his comrades to his true claims. The people of Rhode 
Island were very soon afforded an opportunity of showing 
how gratefully his conduct on this occasion had impressed 
them. The assembly of the colony voted a force of 
sixteen hundred men, as an army of observation, to meet 
the approaching exigency. Its officers were to be ap- 



Greene's personal appearance. 31 

pointed by the same body ; and, with a common consent, 
Nathanael Grreene was raised to its command with the 
rank of major-general. The preparations for war were 
immediate. In a few days the troops were raised, the 
organization begun, and Greene had exchanged the quiet 
of the domestic homestead for the busy strifes and anxi- 
eties of camp. He had been married scarce a year, and 
had just attained the age of thirty-three. His personal 
appearance at this period is described as singularly com- 
manding and impressive. In height he was about five 
feet ten or eleven inches. His frame was athletic and 
symmetrical. His carriage was at once dignified, erect, 
and easy. Hi^ complexion was florid, and the general 
character of his face was that of manly beauty. His 
features were bold, without impairing their sweetness ; 
nor did the blemish of the right eye from the small-pock 
materially diminish the keen and lively fire with which 
it sparkled, when in conversation, in unison with the 
other. The general expression of his features was that 
of a placid thoughtfulness, indicative of a mind rather con- 
templative than passionate. His movements were free 
and elastic, and his military carriage totally unimpaired 
by the slight obstruction in the motion of the right leg, 
which was due to his too severe, but self-imposed labors, 
in early life. His manners were calm and thoughtful, 
rising into cheerfulness when his mood was unimpressed 
by anxiety, and becoming even playful when the charac- 
ter of his associates, and the circumstances in which he 
stood, permitted him to cast aside the habitual sense of 
his responsibilities and duties. With a good heart, a 
mind subdued to its situation, a confidence in self which 
grew naturally, and by quiet degrees, with his acquisitions 
of knowledge and society, the deportment of Greene 
was usually graceful and impressive. With a rare pli- 
ancy and without effort, he could adapt himself to the 



32 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

circle in which he moved ; and, whether serious or pleas- 
ant, could express himself with a facility which declared 
equally for the extent of his acquirements, his experience 
in the world, and the sound and excellent judgment 
which always informed his conversation. 

It was in May, 1775, that Greene took command of 
the army of Rhode Island. Several of the officers 
under him became, like himself, distinguished in the war 
which followed. Among these was Christopher G-reene, 
the hero of Red Bank, and Greneral Varnum. The cap- 
tain of the Kentish guards became a colonel in the new 
levies. It required but a very few days to render the 
command complete in point of numbers. The hardy 
yeomanry of Rhode Island turned out with a spirit 
which was unsurpassed by any of the colonies, and with 
which the zeal of very few could compare. Their train- 
ing and organization were no such easy matter. Greene 
himself had nearly everything to learn ; but he devoted 
himself with his usual industry and intelligence, and his 
acquisitions were extraordinary and rapid. His capacity 
for labor, the readiness with which he could bring mind 
and body to bear upon the necessity — all the fruit of 
his early habits of inquiry and toil — now stood him in 
admirable stead, and enabled him to compass, as by 
instinct, the knowledge which other men only acquire 
by the painful investigations and work of years. His 
mind was comparatively free to the one great duty which 
was before him. His father was no more ; and his 
brothers, harmoniously working together, might safely 
be intrusted with the business — the mills and forges — 
which formed the common property of the family. It 
was his good fortune, no less than his genius, which ren- 
dered it so easy for him to address his toils so entirely to 
the interests of his country. 

He soon qualified himself for the tasks which had 



LEAGUER OF BOSTON 33 

been confided to liim. Early in June, we find him with 
his command engaged in the leaguer of Boston. The 
post assigned him, with his contingent, was Prospect hill ; 
a conspicuous point, on which, in the event of an assault 
from the enemy, he would be particularly exposed. To 
discipline his troops for any event, and to prepare them 
particularly for this, employed his whole time and 
thought. When Washington took the command of the 
army, in July, the troops of Greene were pronounced 
" the best disciplined and appointed in the whole army." 
The Rhode Island blacksmith had not been hammering 
at them in vain. 

The arrival of Washington was an event in the career 
.of Grreene. It afforded him one of the noblest acqui- 
sitions he had ever made — that of a friend, a model of 
the most perfect character that ever lived. The quick 
appreciative eye of the great Virginian discovered, in a 
moment, and distinguished by his favor and regard, the 
rare merits and talents of our subject. He at once 
took him into his confidence, and an intimacy grew up 
between them, almost from their first meeting, which 
was destined to ripen to a most perfect maturity, and to 
remain, without decay or rupture, to the last. It was 
Greene who, according to the usage of the time, wel- 
comed Washington to the army in a public address. 
The quarters of the commander-in-chief at Cambridge 
were near the post v/hich had been assigned to the Rhode 
Island contingent. The opportunities for communion 
between the two generals were accordingly very fre- 
quent, and their sympathies did not allow them to go 
unemployed. 

The American army, soon after the arrival of Wash- 
ington, was placed on the continental establishment. 
The effect of this arrangement was to reduce the rank 
of Greene from that of a major-general to that of a 



34 LTFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. 

brigadier. This change, which was productive of much 
discontent with the other officers of the army whom it 
similarly affected, occasioned no complaint or repining 
with him. He modestly estimated his own claims as a 
military man, and cheerfully yielded to the arrangement 
which seemed to lessen their importance. His decision 
was probably influenced, in some degree, by his deter- 
mination to devote himself to a military life ; the change 
from the state to the national service being more than 
equal, in its advantages, to the loss of that rank which 
he held in the former. This descent in grade neces- 
sarily led to a change of his position in the siege of 
Boston. It brought him to the extreme left of the army, 
and in command of one of the brigades at Winter hill, 
the station nearest to the enemy. This station required 
constant vigilance, but afforded no sufficient employment 
for a mind so habitually active as that of Greene. The 
opportunities for distinction were very few during the 
Campaign. The British showed but little disposition for 
active encounter, and they attempted no enterprises. 
The task of simply keeping them within their quarters 
was irksome only, as it required no military virtues 
higher than those of vigilance and patience. The spirit 
was scarcely more active among the Americans. A 
council of war did meditate an attempt on Boston, in 
the event of the ice in the bay of Charlestown becoming 
sufficiently firm to bear the army ; and this resolve was 
of special disquiet to Greene, since it found him suffer- 
ing severely from the jaundice. He trembled on his 
sick bed lest the attempt should be made without him. 
But his resolution was taken, under any circumstances. 
" Sick or well," said he, " I mean to be there." But 
the experiment was never made. Subsequently, when 
preparations were begun for making the attempt by 
water, Greene was assigned one of the two brigades, 



HIS POLICY AND PATRIOTISM. 35 

four thousand each, of picked men, who were designed 
for the service. But this purpose failed, also. A med- 
itated assault of the British general, which might have 
afforded the Americans an opportunity for trying equally 
their courage and patriotism, was abandoned in conse- 
quence of a sudden tempest, and, hastily embarking his 
troops, he evacuated Boston for New York. 

The leaguer thus undistinguished by active opera- 
tions, would have been wholly without profit to our 
Rhode Island general, but that he employed the year of 
inactivity in unremitted labors to improve the drill and 
organization of his brigade, and to inform himself in 
every branch of the service. His correspondence, begun 
at this period and continued to the close of the war, is 
in proof of his industry, the clearness and coolness of 
his mind, his habits of patient investigation, and the 
eagerness with which he addressed his thoughts to all 
of the great interests which belonged to the present and 
future condition of the country. He was superior to 
those selfish prejudices which made the New England 
troops so unwilling to leave their own precincts. "I am 
as ready," said he, " to serve in Virginia as New Eng- 
land." The country was, in his eyes, a perfect whole ; 
its commerce a common property ; and its fortunes only 
secure in its continued and unselfish union. His opinions 
were largely national ; his views liberal and expansive. 
As early as June, 1775, he declared for an entire sep- 
aration from Great Britain, and urged a declaration of 
independence as absolutely essential, not only to the 
future prosperity of the country, but as the only process 
by which the present object, the support of the French 
nation, could possibly be secured. He had no hope of 
reconciliation with the mother-country, and his policy 
was against the measure. He argued on these topics 
with his usual earnestness and boldness ; and his con'e- 



36 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

spondence, embodying these and many other like opin- 
ions, on kindred subjects, written at intervals snatched 
from more arduous employments, and during great suf- 
fering and sickness, while before Boston, shows equally 
the indomitable energies of his mind, and the unselfish- 
ness of his patriotism. He counselled the inoculation 
of the army, while the British forces were suffering from 
small-pock in Boston ; originated the hospital for the pur- 
pose at Coventry; and gave up his own house to the 
object. He urged the recognition of one commander 
over all the forces in America, to be sent wherever the 
service should require ; the enrolment of a sufficient 
body of troops to be enlisted for the war; and many 
other measures of public policy; which, however much 
doubted and disputed in that day, are now the settled 
axioms of ours. His letters, in which all these prop- 
ositions are discussed, are among the most valuable 
remains of our revolutionary correspondence. 

The removal of the British troops from Boston to New 
York, necessarily led to the breaking up of the Ameri- 
can camp at the former place. A- portion of the ene- 
my's force proceeded to Charleston, where they met 
with the memorable defeat at Fort Moultrie. Acting 
upon the presumption that New York was the object of 
the British commander, Washington ordered his troops 
in that direction. Greene's brigade was despatched to 
Long Island, where he arrived about the middle of 
April, and established his headquarters at Brooklyn. 
The division of the army posted on Long Island was 
placed under his command ; while the i-emainder of the 
American troops were put in occupation of New York. 
The fleet of the enemy, after a long voyage, entered the 
Narrows late in June. Greene, whose command was 
that which was obviously destined for the first trial of 
strength with the assailants, devoted himself to such 



BATTLE OF LONG ISLAND. 37 

preparations as promised to render the issue honorable 
to himself and troops. But the British, for several weeks, 
lay in a singular state of inactivity at Staten island, and, 
in the meantime, G-reene was brought to the verge of 
the grave by a bilious fever — the consequence of great 
exposure and extraordinary fatigue. It was while thus 
he lay, anxious and prostrated, the crisis barely passed 
in his disease, that he heard the cannon of the contend- 
ing armies resounding in his ears. No situation could 
have been more humbling to the brave and ambitious 
spirit. •' Gracious God !" he exclaimed, in his mental 
agony and disappointment, " to be confined at such a 
time !" He could scarcely lift his head from his pillow. 
The thought which added to his distress at this moment, 
arose from the recollection that he was the only general 
officer of the Americans who had made himself familiar 
with the scene of conflict. He it was who had explored 
highways and byways, marked equally the woods, trav- 
ersed the passes, anH established the redoubts and forti- 
fications. He, only, knew where lay the greatest peril, 
which were the points most accessible, and how to pro- 
vide against the exigency which might occur in each. 

Terrible was the anxiety with which he listened, inca- 
pable, to the progress of the cannonade, and received, 
from time to time, the reports of the conflict. Bit- 
ter were the tears which he shed as he was told of 
the havoc made in Smallwood's division — his own favor- 
ite regiment ; and long did he feel the sore of that first 
hurt to his pride and hope, in a career which, however 
noble throughout, and triumphant in the end, was des- 
tined to be particularly distinguished by reverses and 
disappointments. The command of his brigade had 
been confided, during his illness, to Major-General Sul- 
livan. The attack of the British was made late in Au- 
gust, and was pressed with energy and skill. The affair 
4 



38 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. 

is sufficiently well known. Sullivan and Stirling were 
assailed in front by a force strong enough to give tliem 
full employment, while another column of the enemy 
stealthily made their way along the south side of the 
island, and, turning the left wing of the Americans, 
gained their rear behind the range of hills that run from 
Brooklyn to Jamaica. The defence was creditable, but 
overborne by numbers. Stirling and Sullivan were both 
made prisoners ; and the remnant of the American army 
was fortunate in making its retreat over East river, the 
evening of the day of the battle, before the British had 
any suspicion of their object. 

Greene remounted his horse as soon as he dared ven- 
ture from his bed. He was impatient to retrieve his 
position, and show himself in the front of danger. He 
had lost nothing in public opinion by his misfortune, 
but had rather gained, in the general conviction that had 
he been able to take the field the results must have been 
much more gratifying to the reputation and desires of 
the country. With the ability to reappear in the field, 
he rose to the higher rank of a major-general, and the 
resumption of his duties found them sufficiently arduous 
and important. The great point of public interest and 
anxiety was the city of New York. This was momently 
threatened by the British. Greene was among those 
who counselled against any 08*0 rt to defend it. Wash- 
ington went a step farther, and actually counselled that 
it should be burned ; but the cause itself, of the Ameri- 
can revolution, was quite too doubtful at this period to 
permit, or indeed to justify. Congress in a proceeding 
which seemed so desperate. Patriotism was somewhat 
deficient in the nerve for so bold a measure. Congress 
differed from both these counsellors ; but, in willing oth- 
erwise, that body did not come to its decision with an 
energy sufficiently prompt and stern for the achievement 



CONFLICT AT HARLEM. 39 

of the best results. Halting between two opinions, even 
while the enemy was pressing his endeavors — reluctant 
to surrender the city without a struggle — and yet equally 
reluctant to peril the army in its maintenance — the re- 
sult, as is usual in all such cases, was decidedly injurious 
to both objects. Nothing was done toward making a 
vigorous defence, and just as little toward putting the 
army in a position of security. Thus hesitating, when 
the evacuation of the city was finally resolved upon, it 
proved too late to prevent a heavy loss in stores and 
munitions of war, which were abandoned to the enemy. 
Pursued by the British with eagerness, a brief but bril- 
liant stand was made at Harlem, in which Greene distin- 
guished himself. It was his first battle, and he describes 
it as a severe one. He *' fought hard" in it, and doubt- 
lessly, at every angry stroke, found an emollient for 
that wourjded self-esteem which still remembered his 
disappointment at Long Island. But the stand was 
made in vain. The army continued its retreat, and when 
Washington marched to White Plains he detached Greene 
to watch that portion of the enemy's forces which still 
occupied Staten island. The command of the American 
troops in New Jersey was assigned him, and his head- 
quarters were at Fort Lee or at Bergen, as events 
required his presence at either place. The important 
object of his position was to keep open the communica- 
tion with the main army, east of the Hudson, and secure 
for Washington a retreat, should circumstances make this 
necessary. 

These duties were sufficiently heavy, with inadequate 
numbers, and inferior officers. Greene complains bit- 
terly of both. His militia became insubordinate, and he 
was compelled, on one occasion, to bring up his regulars 
to subdue their insolence. Washington, meanwhile, had 
been marching and countermarching to elude the manoe- 



40 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. 

vres of Howe, and to retard the progress of the enemy 
across the Jerseys. His army was growing hourly more 
feeble, and the troops were greatly dispirited. Short 
enlistments and an unwise deference to the requisitions 
of the militia, w^re rapidly reducing the chances of a 
successful struggle. The British, on the other hand, 
were exercising their best energies in the prosecution 
of the war. In possession of New York, their desire 
was naturally to penetrate the Jerseys, and concentrate 
their next regards upon Philadelphia. Their arms were 
pointed toward the position held by Greene. The gar- 
rison at Fort Washington was endangered. This post had 
been maintained as a check upon the navigation of the 
Hudson, but it was badly designed and quite inadequate 
for this object. The British shipping had already passed 
it with impunity, receiving and answering its cannonade, 
without detriment on either side. Useless fov the lead- 
ing purpose for which it had been held, it was proposed 
to* abandon it. Such was Washington's opinion, differ- 
ing from that of Greene, who urged the importance of 
the place in obstructing the enemy in a free communi- 
cation with the country by way of Kingsbridge. He 
suggested other considerations for keeping it ; but these, 
perhaps, would not have been conclusive, had not Con- 
gress by resolution, determined " on retaining it as long 
as possible." Under this resolution, Washington wrote 
to Greene to give the garrison every assistance in his 
power, coupled, however, with a discretionary power to 
withdraw the command should it be necessary. Greene 
preferred to maintain the post, which was in the keeping 
of Colonel Magaw, who had a force of two thousand 
men, chiefly drawn from Pennsylvania and Maryland. 
This body of troops was incorrectly supposed to be com- 
petent to its defence. When threatened, Greene added 
to the garrison a detachment of six hundred more. Ho 



CAPTURE OF PORT WASHINGTON. 41 

himself was present with the garrison the evening be- 
fore the place was assaulted, encouraging the troops by 
his presence and the officers by his councils. But the re- 
sult showed the error of attempting the defence, partic- 
ularly as the post could be commanded from contiguous 
heights, and as an overwhelming force could be readily 
concentrated upon it. The assault was made on the 16th 
of November. A severe conflict followed, in which, 
though successful in their objects, the British were very 
roughly handled. They lost eight hundred men under 
the unerring aim of the Maryland rifles. With anything 
like an equal number of troops, the defence must have 
been maintained triumphantly. But the numbers of 
Howe were as five to one, and his dispositions for the 
assault were made with masterly judgment. The garri- 
son became prisoners-of-war. Greene suffered, for a 
time, from public opinion, which censured him for not 
abandoning the fort in season. We have shown his rea- 
sons for not doing so. They are such as would probably 
have influenced any officer who, like our subject, was 
new to military life, lacking experience, and necessarily 
influenced in his judgment by the opinions and wishes 
of his superiors. It is only that confidence which grows 
equally from indomitable will, and a veteran career, that 
can venture, in the face of authority, to assume the re- 
sponsibility of independent action. Whatever reproaches 
may be urged against Groene, must be shared equally 
with Washington and Congress. The resolution of the 
latter stares him in the face, and, though allowed some 
discretion by the former, the importance of the post is 
yet dwelt upon as justifying every pains and expense in 
the endeavor to preserve it. It was for this reason that 
Greene, instead of withdrawing the garrison, added to 
its force when it was threatened by the enemy. It will 
be no, disparagement to his ability, if we admit that ho 
4* 



42 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

may have deceived himself as to the strength of the po- 
sition, and its capacity for defence. He, himself, had but 
little training as an engineer, and in this branch of the 
service the American army, at the beginning of the revo- 
lution, and, indeed, throughout the progress of the war, 
was lamentably deficient. It was the consciousness of 
this deficiency, that led to the undue and improper ele- 
vation to command of so many European officers of small 
merit. 

The fall of Fort Washington naturally led to a demon- 
stration upon Fort Lee. Washington anticipated this 
attempt, and gave orders for the evacuation of the place ; 
but the means of transportation could not be found in 
season, and the orders of Washington had scarcely been 
received before the British force, destined for the con- 
quest of the fort, was seen crossing the Hudson. At 
the head of this force was Lord Cornwallis, with whom 
Greene was subsequently to come in conflict in frequent 
campaigns. With a strong body of British and Hessians, 
his aim was to cut off* the retreat of the garrison, toward 
the Hackensack river. This was early on the morning 
of the 18th of November. Greene rose from his bed to 
the encounter. The space between himself and the river 
was four miles. Cornwallis was nearer the object by 
half the distance. Yet such was the rapidity and energy 
of the American general, that he contrived to throw 
himself in the path of the British, before the head of the 
river had been gained, and keep him at bay until Wash- 
ington — to whom advice of the danger had been sent — 
could come up to his relief. Greene's conduct on this 
occasion was the subject of as much eulogy as, in the 
afftiir of Foil Washington, it had been of censure. Leav- 
ing the commander-in-chief to deal with Cornwallis, he 
huri'ied back to the fort, and conveyed the remains of the 
gaiTison in safety across the Hackensack. 



SURPRISE OF TRENTON. 43 

The losses of the Americans, by the capture and aban- 
donment of these forts, were particularly heavy. They 
left the army of Washington in a singularly feeble con- 
dition. The famous retreat through the Jerseys followed, 
as a natural consequence of his diminished strength. 
With but three thousand men, the commander-in-chief 
sullenly yielded before his enemy, until he threw the 
Delaware between the pursuer and himself. This was, 
probably, the most melancholy period of doubt, humility, 
and apprehension, among the Americans, in the whole 
course of the revolutionary struggle. But it found 
Greene as firm and undespairing as Washington ; ready 
for any sacrifice but that of popular liberty — prepared 
to retire to the wilderness rather than return to the domi- 
nation of Great Britain. Their despondency was not 
irrational, nor of serious duration. It strengthened rather 
than impaired their resolution, and, deserving well of 
fortune, they were now destined to experience some 
gleams of sunshine through the cloud. Suddenly, at the 
moment of greatest seeming prostration, the columns of 
Washington were set in motion for the surprise of Tren- 
ton. This place was occupied by a force of fifteen hun- 
dred Hessians, under the command of Colonel Rahl. 
The surprise was eminently successful, and at once re- 
aroused the nation into hope and confidence. Crossing 
the Delaware on Christmas night, in a storm of wind and 
rain, a detachment of the American army made its way 
to the Jersey shore, and, by a forced march of nine 
miles, succeeded in a secret progress which left the Brit- 
ish totally unapprized of their progress until they felt the 
shock of battle. A few minutes decided the affair, in the 
defeat and suiTender of more than a thousand Hessians, 
considered among the best troops of the British army. 
This blow was followed up by the masterly manoeuvre 
against Princeton, by which all the schemes of the enemy 



44 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

were defeated — his designs frustrated against Philadel- 
phia, and his chain of posts temporarily broken up. In 
this brilliant coup-de-main, as in the affair of Trenton, 
Greene's credit was considerable. He was one of those 
by whom these enterprises were counselled, and, at Tren- 
ton, was intrusted with the command of the left wing, 
accompanied by Washington in person. It was this di- 
vision which first reached the tOAvn, and, having seized 
upon the enemy's artillery, cut off their retreat to Prince- 
ton. The arrival of Sullivan with the right wing, secured 
the victory. The affair at Princeton was not less bril- 
liant, and, next to the claim of Washington, as command- 
er-in-chief, must be that of Greene, as his admirable and 
efficient second. In these two hajDpy victories, achieved 
at a moment when all seemed desperate in the condition 
of the nation, the British were confounded, and the 
Americans proportionably inspirited at proofs in their 
officers, not only of a valor which could look coolly on the 
strife with the veterans of Europe, but of a skill in strat- 
egic warfare which could baffle their best plans, and put 
all their experience at fault. With these glorious events, 
closing the campaign of 1776, the army of the Ameri- 
cans, not exceeding three thousand men, retired into 
winter quarters, at Morristown, New Jersey. 



ARMY IN WINTER QUARTERS. 45 



CHAPTER IV. 

The Aniiy in Winter Quarters — Greene sent on a Mission to Congress. 
— Explores the Highlands. — MancEuvres of the British. — Greene in 
Command of a Division. — Conspicuous in the Battle of Brandywine — 
and in that of Germantown. — Sent against Comwallis. — Retires with 
the Army upon Valley Forge. 

The fact that the two armies had retired into winter 
quarters, did not imply inactivity on the part of either. 
The little force of Washington, scarcely more than three 
thousand men, regulars and militia, were kept sufficiently 
busy in watching that of the enemy, which numbered 
more than twenty thousand. It was in being able M 
keep in check such an overwhelming force that the great 
merit of Washington's generalship is to be found. The 
army of the British occupied a chain of posts from 
Brunswick, by Amboy, down Staten island, and thus 
kept up the communication with New York. It is not 
pretended that any vigilance or skill of the American 
general could have foiled the enterprise of such a force, 
but for the absence of that concentration, which the occu- 
pancy of such an extent of country must necessarily 
imjjly. The active incidents of the war were necessa- 
rily few, and of little importance, during the progress of 
the winter. Greene had his share of them, being sta- 
tioned at Baskingridge with a separate division. A 
series of skirmishes, which annoyed rather than discom- 
fited the enemy, was maintained during this period, 
and served, in some degree, to improVe the partisan 



46 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. 

capacity of the Americans. That Greene profited by 
these lessons, in full degree with any of his contempo- 
raries, is the natural inference, equally from what we 
know of his past habits and his future career. The 
approach of a more active career was necessarily the 
result of the breaking up of winter. 

The British plan of the campaign of 1777 promised 
to be sufficiently formidable. Their purpose was to get 
possession of the southern states, and cut them oiF from 
the support of the north. Philadelphia was still a first 
object. Burgoyne was to reduce the country lying 
along Lake Champlain and the river Hudson; while 
Clinton and Cornwallis, operating in Virginia and the 
remote south, were to destroy, in detail, the several 
members of the confederacy, wherever they were found 
most susceptible to injury. 

To meet and counteract these preparations, Wash- 
ington strove with all his powers for the reorganization 
of the army. But there was nothing encouraging in 
this progress. That Congress might be awakened to a 
proper sense of its dangers and duties, Greene was 
specially despatched to Philadelphia. This mission was 
intrusted to him, in consequence of the fact, now gen- 
erally understood, that he was in the confidence of the 
commander-in-chief — a peculiar distinction, which had 
already begun to produce its natural effects of jealousy, 
suspicion, and reproach. We have every reason to be- 
lieve that Greene executed this mission, which was one 
of considerable delicacy and difficulty, with a rare judg- 
ment and discretion. His own good sense and expe- 
rience, not less than the detailed counsels of Washington, 
enabled him to set before Congress the exact conditions 
of affairs — the exigencies of the army and the country; 
the nature of the assistance and force required ; how 
the approaching dangers were to be met; and how best 



EXPLORES THE HIGHLANDS. 47 

the materials of the sei'vice were to be found and em- 
ployed. His return to the army afforded him instant 
employment in another field. Foreseeing that the New 
Yoik highlands were destined to become the theatre of 
the most interesting operations, he was despatched with 
General Knox to explore their jjasses ; to prepare for 
their defence ; for intercepting the progress of the enemy, 
and to oppose his advance, or embarrass his retreat, as 
the nature of the exigency might counsel. 

To enable him to effect these objects, the militia of 
Connecticut and Massachusetts were placed at his ser- 
vice. To a certain extent these duties were performed 
as prescribed ; but the more full development of the 
enemy's designs required the attention of Greene in 
another quarter. The advance of Burgoyne, from the 
north, was found to be simultaneous with a new eff'ort of 
Howe to penetrate New Jersey; and, leaving the desti- 
nies of the former to other hands, the energies of the 
commander-in-chief were now addressed entirely to the 
progress of Sir William. His entreaties and expostula- 
tions, addressed to Congress, had not been successful in 
the reorganization of the army. He was scarcely better 
prepared, for the encounter of the enemy, at the close 
than at the opening of the winter. The dawn of spring, 
the season for active operations, found his regiments still 
lamentably deficient in numbers, 'and desponding from 
the peculiar pressure of casualties, such as sickness and 
small-pock, which continued to harass and to enfeeble 
them. But, inactivity in an army is perhaps its worst 
disease ; and, with this knowledge, though still greatly 
inferior in force, with his men badly equipped and in 
great part undisciplined, Washington felt the necessity 
of motion. He resolved, accordingly, to throw himself 
in front of the enemy, as soon as he exhibited a design 
to cross the Jerseys. Toward the end of May, he broke 



48 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

up his camp at Morristown, and took up a position at 
Middlebrook, the natural advantages of which he dili- 
gently improved, rendering it a post of considerable 
security and strength. Howe was already in the field, 
and about the middle of June he marched out of 
Brunswick. Conscious of his own superiority, it was 
his policy to bring on an action with the American gen- 
eral ; but the latter was quite too wary to be won by the 
arts of his rival, who, he knew, would never attempt 
to descend upon Philadelphia, leaving his enemy in the 
rear. Failing to provoke his opponent, Howe, after a 
sufficient demonstration, re-entered Brunswick, and com- 
menced a retrograde movement, by way of Amboy, tow- 
ard New York. It was then that Washington prepared 
to harass his retreating footsteps. The command of a 
strong detachment was assigned to Greene for this pur- 
pose. His orders were to follow close upon the track, 
to hang upon and annoy the rear of- the British, and to 
embrace the first opportunity, upon the arrival of rein- 
forcements, which were expected under Sullivan and 
Maxwell, to attack him with all his vigor. The design 
was only carried out in part. So far as it was possible 
for him to operate with the three brigades which he 
commanded, Greene's proceedings were all that could 
be expected or desired. But the anticipated reinforce- 
ments failed him. Sullivan did not reach the scene of 
interest in time to take a part in the performance, and 
the despatch to General Maxwell never reached him, 
having been probably cut off by the enemy. Greene 
followed upon the footsteps of the British rear, anxiously 
waiting the appearance of the expected regiments ; but 
in vain. He pursued as far as Piscataway; but was 
compelled finally to submit to the mortifying events which 
enabled the Bntisli to reach Staten island in safety. 
His troops behaved with great intrepidity in several 



BRITISH THREATEN PHILADELPHIA. 49 

demonstrations upon the rear-guarcl of the enemy, but 
were quite too few to venture upon engaging it. 

Sir William Howe, in retreating from, before his 
enemy, was by no means prepared to abandon his object. 
He simply drew back, in order the more effectually to ' 
make his spring. That object was Philadelphia. But 
with great good fortune and skill, he contrived to keep 
the Americans in doubt as to his intentions. They knew 
that he was embarking his army in his fleet ; but the 
destination of the fleet was the difficult question, which 
no clue in his possession could enable the American gen- 
eral to determine. To fly to the defence of Philadel- 
phia, which Washington justly thought to be his real 
object, might be to leave to the enemy a country open to 
invasion ; and the uncertainty of his designs was greatly 
increased by the length of time which, in consequence 
of baffling winds, the British were at sea. All doubts 
were finally dissipated by the appearance of the fleet off* 
Elk river, in the Chesapeake. To meet him, and pre- 
vent his progress at every hazard, was now the necessity 
before the American general. Hastily assembling all his 
disposable forces, he advanced with the elite of the army 
to the meeting with Howe. Greene was sent forward 
to reconnoitre and select a fit place for the encampment. 
He chose for this purpose the Cross-roads, about six 
miles from the enemy. This jDoint was sufficiently near 
the hostile army for the purposes of skirmishing and 
conflict, and commanded, in the rear, an open country, 
from which supplies and succors could be drawn at any 
moment. But a council of war, in advance of Greene's 
report, decided upon another position, which he did not 
scruple to denounce as insusceptible of defence, — an 
opinion which was subsequently justified entirely by the 
progress of events. 

The division that Greene commanded was composed 



50 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

of the Virginia brigades of Muhlenberg and Weedon. 
"With this division Washington marched in person. The 
two armies came in sight of each other on the ridge that 
divides Christiana creek from the Elk river. The British 
were estimated at eighteen thousand ; the force under 
Washington at fifteen thousand, but with only eleven 
thousand fit for duty. Howe manoeuvred with a view to 
turn the right of Washington and cut off his communi- 
cation with Philadelphia. To elude this design, the 
American general crossed the Brandywine creek, and 
throwing up some slight M^orks at Chads-ford, on the east 
bank of the creek, he prepared to make a stand in this 
position. Howe, who was now quite anxious to measure 
swords with his wary adversary, advanced to the attack 
on the 11th of September. By a ruse de guerre^ he 
obtained such an advantage over the Americans as to 
render the results of the day quite unsatisfactory to the 
latter. While a large portion of his army, under Knyp- 
hausen, engaged the Americans in front, another portion, 
led by Cornwallis, secretly filed off upon their left, crossed 
the creek at another ford, which had been left unde- 
fended, and was rapidly gaining the American rear. It 
is said that Washington had foreseen this movement, and 
would have prepared against it, but for the fact that his 
mind had been held in suspense by contradictory intel- 
ligence. This may be so, but it neither excuses nor pal- 
liates the omission. Enough that, after a manly struggle 
with the foe in front, the necessity became apparent for 
providing against the enemy who had gained his rear. 
If Washington erred in any respect, in suffering this 
manoeuvre to deceive him, he is admitted to have repaired 
his error by the readiness and skill with which he adapted 
his movements to the change of circumstances. The 
conflict had terminated in disappointment, if not defeat. 
It was now necessary, not only that Cornwallis should be 



BATTLE OF BRANDYWINE. 51 

arrested in his advance, but that Knyphausen should be 
kept in check. To leave him to cross the stream and 
fall upon the rear of the army, w^hile it was engaged in 
the struggle with Cornwallis, would be a fatal error. 
Wayne was accordingly thrown, with his brigade, into 
the redoubt by which the ford was commanded ; while 
Greene's division, consisting of the brigades of Weedon 
and Muhlenberg, was halted in the rear of Wayne, occu- 
pying such a position as would enable him to fly with 
equal readiness to the relief of either of the parties — 
that which remained at the ford, and that which went in 
pursuit of Howe and Comwallis. The rest of the army, 
under the command of Sullivan, was hurried forward, 
with instructions to form and engage the main araiy of 
the British with all possible expedition. These orders 
were obeyed ; but, in consequence of a miserable regard 
to etiquette, instead of fonning and fighting as they 
aiTived on the ground, Greneral Sullivan and Lord Stir- 
ling stopped to do some very unnecessary counter-march- 
ing; and Comwallis very judiciously seized the oppor- 
tunity of turning upon his assailants, and charging the 
Americans while they were yet busy in forming their 
line of battle. Great was the confusion that ensued, 
followed by a complete rout. Washington hurried to 
the scene of action, but not in season to avert the disas- 
ter. Meanwhile, Knyphausen recommenced the battle 
at the ford, and Greene was preparing to advance to the 
help of Wayne, who was already in hot argument with 
him, when an order from the commander-in-chief sum- 
moned him to the support of the forces which had been 
led against Howe and Cornwallis. With such alacrity 
was this order obeyed, that the distance of four miles 
was traversed by Greene's division in forty-nine minutes. 
He came in time to cover the retreat of the fugitives, 
and to arrest the fierce and bloody pursuit of the exult- 



0» LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

ing enemy. It was a moment which needed all the cool 
and steadfast courage of a veteran soldier; and Greene 
never showed to greater advantage than in the steady- 
front, and the firm, unembarrassed spirit, with which he 
encouraged his own troops, and encountered the British. 
While the brigade under Weedon was halted in such a 
position as to succor and sustain Wayne, should he be 
forced by the superior strength of Knyphausen, that 
under Muhlenberg, led by Greene in person, passing to 
Weedon's right, met the troops of Howe and Cornwallis 
upon the road. With a firmness and precision of move- 
ment, which compelled the admiration even of his foes, 
he opened for the reception of the American fugitives, 
and closed against their pursuers. A heavy fire from 
his field-pieces caused a temporary pause in the earnest- 
ness of the British assault, while, gradually incorporating 
the disordered battalions with his own, Greene slowly 
yielded to a pressure, which he might only retard, and 
not arrest. In this way he continued the combat — 
stubbornly fighting, sullenly retiring — until his retro- 
grade movement brought him to a narrow defile through 
a thicket, where his quick eye readily saw that a stand 
might temporarily be made. Halting at this point, he 
hastily ordered his front for battle; upon which the 
British darted with flushed spirits, and a confidence that 
looked to this last struggle as putting a proper finish to 
the victory. They recoiled from the well-delivered fire 
which encountered them, and felt the necessity of a more 
deliberate demonstration if they calculated on success. 
The position taken was one which required time and 
industry before it could be turned. The Americans 
were now recovered from their panic. The steadfast 
courage of their leader had informed their own, and, 
fortunately, the shades of night graciously interposed for 
the safety of the weary squadrons. In tlrs way, stub- 



MANOEUVRES OF THE TWO ARMIES. 53 

bornly fighting and sullenly retiring, with his face ever 
set against the enemy, and with steel and shot ready to 
confront him, Greene succeeded in saving the army from 
the complete disaster by which it had been threatened, 
and which, with a general of less coolness and nerve than 
himself, must have been inevitable. 

Encouraged by the degree of success which he had 
obtained in this conflict, and dissatisfied that his victory 
had not been made complete by the entire capture of 
the American army. Sir William Howe prepared to 
renew the struggle. Nor was Washington entirely un- 
willing to gratify his desires ; but, with a force inferior 
in numbers and dispirited by defeat, he required advan- 
tages in the issue, reconciling this inequality, such as his 
opponent did not seem willing to afford him. A few 
days brought the two armies once more within striking 
distance of each other; and they were mutually pre- 
paring for the encounter, when a violent storm tempo- 
rarily prevented their purpose, and so damaged the arms 
and ammunition of the Americans, that Washington was 
compelled to decline fighting. The Americans retired 
upon Reading. The enemy continued his approach ; and 
the public policy was supposed to require, as in the case 
of New York, that Philadelphia should be saved, if pos- 
sible. But the desires of government, as in the instance 
just given, were not seconded by the adequate efforts. 
Greene was employed once more in the choice of a 
position for the army, which would enable it to fight or 
retreat at pleasure. He chose a region, mountainous 
and difficult of access, in the neighborhood of the Yellow 
Springs, from which the Americans might annoy and 
harass the enemy in partial encounters, or boldly en- 
deavor to arrest its passage over the Schuylkill. A 
council of war again determined against this position, 
5* 



54 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

preferring a series of maiiffiuvres in the open field, and 
in the direct face of the enemy. The result was; that 
Washington found himself unequal to the encounter, and 
Philadelphia was yielded to the British general. He en- 
tered it in triumph on the 26th September; but it was an 
unfortunate acquisition. It became his Capua, and its loss 
in this way was of real service to the cause of America. 
Congress removed to Lancaster; their labors serving 
rather to establish a central point, upon which the several 
colonies could turn their eyes, than really to serve the 
cause with any efficient councils. In some respects their 
proceedings were greatly pernicious. Their resolution to 
defend Philadelphia, a place of no strength as a military 
position and of no importance to the integrity of the 
cause, may be described in this category. The control 
which they exercised over the army was commonly mis- 
chievous ; particularly as they frequently offended that 
jealous sensibility with regard to rank which is so impor- 
tant to the self-respect of the soldier. Greene, Sullivan, 
and Knox, while the army lay at Middlebrook — under 
impressions of injustice arising from the supposed ele- 
vation of a foreigner, just arrived in the country, to a 
rank above them — declared themselves to Conofress in 
such a manner as greatly to irritate that great council of 
the nation. But the lesson, if prematurely administered, 
was probably of some importance, in suggesting to the 
civil power a better regard to the necessary laws of rank, 
in military afiairs, than it had been previously accus- 
tomed to display. Congress was very angry, on this 
occasion, with the general officers whom we have men- 
tioned, as concerned in this " round robin." It called 
upon the offenders for an apology. But the spirits sum- 
moned by Glendower were not more ready with their 
answer ; and the anger of the parties seemed to subside, 
without further demonstrations on either side, which 



POSITION OP THE BRITISH. 55 

should increase the provocation. Let us return to the 
rival armies. 

The position taken by the British, after possession had 
been obtained of Philadelphia, was at the village of 
Germantown, within six miles of the former city. Here 
lay the main body of their army; but detachments of 
smaller portions were made, some having immediate 
charge of Philadelphia, while others were engaged in 
remote enterprises. The American army occupied a 
position about sixteen miles from Germantown. The 
troops, though recently mortified by defeat, were in good 
spirits. Their loss at Brandywine had been compara- 
tively small ; and as that had been the first occasion when 
the greater number of them had ever felt an enemy's 
fire, that they had been so little daunted by disaster, 
afforded every reason to hope better things from their 
future conduct. Washington determined to try their 
temper, and selected as the mark which he should first 
strike, the main body of the British at Germantown. 
His plan meditated a surprise, the post being without 
other bulwarks than the ordinary obstructions of house 
and fence, in a long and narrow village. In point of 
numbers, the two armies were nearly equal ; the differ- 
ence, however, was greatly in favor of the British as 
respects the equipments and quality of the soldiers. 
The Americans were mostly raw troops, half-clad, and 
miserably provided with weapons. The enemy were in 
excellent trim, with all necessary armaments and imple- 
ments, veterans mostly from foreign service, and flushed 
with recent victory. To make a dash at them under 
such circumstances, argued a degree of rashness in the 
commander-in-chief which has not often been imputed 
to him. But something of audacity was essential to 
keep up the spirits of the nation, which had been greatly 



m LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. 

let down by the frequent facility of retreat which their 
army had shown on preceding occasions. 

The order of battle in Washington's army assigned the 
right wing to Sullivan. This was attended by the com- 
mander-in-chief in person. The left was confided to 
Greene, and consisted of his own and Stevens's divis- 
ions, supported by M'Dougall's brigade. The army 
commenced its march on the night of the 3d of Octo- 
ber. The attack was made at break of day on the 
morning of the fourth. The British, well posted, though 
unapprized of danger, were not unprepared for it. " Their 
line was divided nearly equally by the village, and from 
its right, strong detachments were posted, at intervals, as 
far as the ridge road." This road, which, at this point, 
approaches very near the Schuylkill, was guarded by the 
G-erman chasseurs. " In advance of the village, on the 
Germantown road, was posted a battalion of light-infan- 
try," and a little in their rear was the 40th regiment, 
under Colonel Musgrove. Advanced upon the limekiln 
road was the battalion of light-infantry ; and on that of 
York, the Queen's rangers. Both roads were measura- 
bly watched by the 1st and 2d battalions of the Guards, 
which occupied prominent points between them. The 
British army, as may be seen from these statements, was 
judiciously ordered for defence against every point of 
attack. No precautions were spared, and the failure of 
the attempt of the Americans was probably due to the 
vigilance of his patrols. 

The night was an obscure one, and the morning 
dawned imperceptibly in fog. The approach of the 
Americans was known to the British sufficiently long to 
afford them time for every preparation ; but the former, 
prosecuting a midnight's march, in a darkness more than 
commonly dense, struggled on, without any apprehen- 
sions of an enemy forewarned and deliberately awaiting 



BATTLE OF GERMANTOWN. 57 

them. Their progress was a painful one, over fence and 
ditch, through bog and forest, seldom able, at any period, 
to distinguish objects in the gloom at an arrow-shot be- 
yond them. The break of day scarcely aided their prog- 
ress, though it found them near the scene of action. 
They were suddenly roused to a due sense of its ap- 
proach, by a smart firing in the direction of the "rzJ^e" 
road, which had been pursued by the American militia 
under General Armstrong. Believing this to be the 
quarter at which the assault of the Americans was to be 
seriously made, and that their appearance in front was 
only meant as a diversion — conscious, too, that this 
would have been the better policy of the assailants — the 
British commander strengthened his chasseurs by strong 
reinforcements. Unhappily, the militia afforded him but 
little occasion for these precautions. They scarcely 
looked the chasseurs in the face, and the latter proved 
quite equal to the defence against such customers. 
The reinforcements sent to this quarter by the British, 
were speedily withdrawn to the left wing, which they 
reached and strengthened at the critical moment. The 
action had begun at this quarter in the steady advance 
of the column under Sullivan. The battalion of British 
infantry, which this column first encountered, having de- 
livered their fire, yielded before the bayonets of Con- 
way's brigade. Striking into the Germantown road. 
Colonel Musgrove, with the 40th regiment, rushed for- 
ward to sustain them, and the battle raged warmly for 
a while, until the British, feeling now the whole pres- 
sure of Sullivan's arm upon them, again yielded before it. 
The scale was about to turn decidedly in favor of the 
Americans. They had forced their way into the village, 
and the squadrons which had been brought to encounter 
their advance, had twice proved inadequate to the pur- 
pose. But the brave Englishman, yielding slowly to the 



68 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

pressure which he could not oppose, was prepared to avail 
himself of every opportunity for showing front and offer- 
ing resistance. At the head of the village, directly in 
the route to be pursued by the Americans, stood a strong 
mansion-house of stone. This afforded a means for 
arresting the assailants, of which Musgrove, with a 
quick military appreciation of its advantages, readily 
took possession. With five or six companies he quickly 
occupied its walls, while the rest of his division fell back 
upon the main body of the army. The fog lifted at this 
moment, and the advancing column of Sullivan found 
itself arrested by a murderous fire from the windows of 
the building occupied by Musgrove. Here, unhappily, 
with the view to the capture of the detachment by which 
it was occupied, the assailing division was halted for sev- 
eral precious minutes. Knox's artillery was opened upon 
the walls of stone, the unknown thickness of which gave 
no reason to doubt that a breach could be readily effect- 
ed. But the delay being greater than had been expected, 
Washington, who rode up to note the effect of Knox's 
bullets, finally ordered the column to push forward, leav- 
ing a single regiment to observe and keep in check the 
temporary garrison. To avoid the fatal fire from the 
windows, the army inclined to the right and left, and 
pressed onward to the encounter with other and no less 
serious difficulties. " The left wing of the British army 
had advanced as the filing on the road commenced," and 
the whole line, extending from the Germantown to the 
Limekiln road, was drawn up so as to meet the attack 
of both the American columns. This required a new 
disposition of the troops, which lost still more of the val- 
uable time. Posts and fences were to be torn away for 
the passage of troops, horses, and artillery, and before 
one portion of the army could do the work of pioneer- 
ing, the other half had expended all its ammnnition. 



GREENE S DIVISION AT GERMANTOWN. 59 

Such was the fortune of the column under Sullivan. 
That under Greene was necessarily influenced and injuri- 
ously affected by the events which had taken place upon 
the rio-ht. It had reached the scene of action at the con- 

o 

templated moment. Here it was encountered vigorously 
by the light-infantry of the British. This body of troops, 
however, was compelled to retreat, and continued to do 
so in good order, though pressed by the American light 
troops, and galled by their artillery. Through fog and 
darkness, with objects scarcely visible at thirty yards, the 
assailants felt their way with the bayonet, firing only 
when the flash from the British guns enabled them, 
with tolerable accuracy, to seek a mark. With the 
lifting of the darkness, at the dawn of day, the objects 
of search and assault were scarcely made more apparent. 
Reaching the ground directly east of the stone-house 
into which Musgrove had thrown himself, Greene's at- 
tention was drawn to the warm discharges of firearms 
which announced the conflict of the other column with 
the enemy. To halt, reconnoitre, and finally to display, 
for the struggle with him also, was the work of little 
time ; but the progress of events, totally beyond Greene's 
knowledge, had rendered nugatory the previous an-ange- 
ments for the battle. In the original disposition of the 
American forces, it was contemplated that Sullivan 
should meet and fight that part of the enemy's force 
which was encamped to the west of the village, and 
Greene that part which lay to the east." But the newly- 
formed front of the British, rendered a new organiza- 
tion necessary for Sullivan, and threw one half of his 
column on the same side of the village with Greene's. 
Here, expecting only to find an enemy, the rear line, 
composed of Stevens's division, in the obscurity of the 
morning, fired upon Wayne's division, which constituted 
Sullivan's left. The front, finding itself between two fires, 



60 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

was thrown into confusion. Greene, meanwhile, whose 
division was on the left of the whole, pressing forward to 
feel the British, opened also upon the other column. A 
panic necessarily followed which was fatal to the order 
of Sullivan's division. They broke and yielded on each 
hand, in spite of all the efforts of their officers, leaving 
Greene's command to the encounter with the enemy, 
which, it is alleged, was never better sustained by the 
most determined veterans. It effected the service which 
had that day been assigned it ; broke the British right, 
drove them at the point of the bayonet, and made a large 
number of prisoners — its very zeal proving fatal in the 
sequel, since, " by pressing forward in the pursuit, while 
Stevens was embarrassed and detained, its right flank 
became exposed ; and two regiments on the left of the 
British line, not being confronted by any part of the 
American force, were at liberty to wheel upon the left of 
Sullivan." The battle, which had been almost won, was 
soon entirely lost. The confusion in the column of Sul- 
livan was irretrievable. By this time, the light of day 
was sufficient to discover to Greene the danger which 
threatened his unsheltered flank. The rout which pre- 
vailed on his right, was sufficiently monitory, and, with a 
sullen anger, he gave orders for retreat from that field, 
which, but a little while before, he had fancied all his own. 
With practised troops, even then, the event of the day 
might have been retrieved ; but with raw and inexperi- 
enced soldiers, the difficulties and dangers which men- 
aced the retreat, presented to the minds of their leaders 
a more arduous and perilous duty than that through 
which they had already gone. Musgrove still occupied 
his fortress of stone; the British army had recovered 
from its surprise, and, with the light increasing and gui- 
ding their manoeuvres, were pressing forward with the 
growing hope of converting a partial defeat into a com- 



Greene's share in the affair. 61 

plete victory. To encourage tliem in this hope, Corn- 
wallis, with a strong body of fresh ti'oops, was pushing 
on from Philadelphia, having been aroused at the first 
sounds of the conflict. To retreat, under such circum- 
stances, was a serious matter, and Greene devoted him- 
self to the task of timing and regulating, with firmness 
and coolness, the retrograde movement which was now 
inevitable. To keep his men from panic or despondency 

— to retire sternly and sullenly, like the wounded wolf 
who turns momently to rend the incautious pursuer 

— to guard the rear with dogged watch and vigilance 

— w©re duties in the prosecution of which Greene 
pertinaciously exj)osed his person in a manner that 
showed equally his devotion to his troops and the deep 
mortification which he felt at being forced to forego a 
victory within his very grasp. The action had been a 
long and sharp one. It had lasted nearly two hours and 
a half. The lost in killed and wounded was nearly equal 
on both sides, each being seven or eight hundred. The 
Americans suffered the additional loss of four hundred 
prisoners in the surrender of Mathews's regiment. They 
brought off all their artillery. The pursuit was vigor- 
ously urged by the British, was continued for about five 
miles, and was marked by frequent conflict. Of this bat- 
tle, Washington and Greene both concurred in the opin- 
ion which the former expressed in his letter to Congress, 
that " our troops retreated at the instant when victory was 
declaring in our favor." The British opinion was, that 
" in this action the Americans acted on the offensive, and, 
though repulsed with loss, showed themselves a formida- 
ble adversary, capable of charging with resolution, and 
retreating with order." Greene's enemies found several 
causes for censure in the part which he took in the 
affair ; but his reputation has survived the assault, and the 
opinion of his more intelligent contemporaries, afiirmed 

6 



62 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. 

by the deliberate judgment of posterity, assigns to him 
the credit of a fair share of all that was meiitorious in 
the action. 

If the Americans did not succeed in the suiprise and 
capture of the British at Germantown, they gave them, 
in the language of the provincials, " a mighty bad scare." 
It was not long that they remained in this position. They 
felt too sensibly the danger of a post which was so ac- 
cessible to the assaults of a vigilant and enterprising 
enemy, and retired upon Philadelphia. Howe, mean- 
while, directing all his efforts to opening a communica- 
tion with his fleet, ordered a reinforcement from New 
York. With his eye keenly fixed on all his operations, 
Washington lay at Whitemarsh, but fifteen miles distant 

— not satisfied with the disappointment at Germantown — 
and eager, with better hopes, to try the experiment again. 
An opportunity was supposed to oflTer itself in a threat- 
ened descent of Coniwallis upon the Jerseys. With a 
force of three thousand men, he crossed from Chester to 
Billingsport. He had before him the twofold object of 
collecting supplies for the army, and of opening the nav- 
igation of the Delaware by the reduction of Fort Mercer 

— or Red Bank — a place already famous by its defence, 
under Colonel Greene, against Count Donop and his 
Hessians. 

It was determined, on the part of the Americans, to 
despatch a force into the Jerseys, for the purpose of baf- 
fling the designs of CornwaUis ; and General Greene was 
chosen to its command. He proceeded, with due dili- 
gence, upon his mission, but, before a junction could be 
formed of his own with the brigades of Huntingdon and 
Varnum, then in the Jerseys, the army under Cornwal- 
lis had been so greatly strengthened, by reinforcements 
from New York, as to render idle and improper any de- 
cisive demonstrations on the part of the Americans. 



WINTER QUARTERS. 63 

Greene, however, hung upon the left wing of the enemy, 
until recalled by Washington, who had reason to appre- 
hend for the safety of the main army, in consequence of 
a movement of Cornwallis, which promised to unite the 
forces of the latter with those under Howe. Such a 
junction would have placed it in the power of the Brit- 
ish general-in-chief to strike an effective blow at the 
American army, unless strengthened by the concentra- 
tion of all their detachments. It was the last of Novem- 
ber when Greene, with his column joined Washington at 
Whitemarsh. Here the army remained till the night of 
the 12th of December, certain movements of the British 
leading to apprehensions of an attack. But the storm 
passed over in cloud and murmur, and, content with a 
vigilant watch upon each other, the opposing armies 
tacitly agreed to forego more active enterprises for the 
season. The Americans went into winter quarters at 
Valley Forge, about sixteen miles from Philadelphia, 
while the British, within and about that city, after all 
their battles and successes, were content with just 
enough conquered temtory to spread their blankets 
upon. 



64 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 



CHAPTER V. 

Greene becomes duaitcnnaster-General. — The British evacuate Phila- 
delphia. — Pursued by Washington. — The Battle of Monmouth. — The 
Conduct of Greene in tliat Battle. — Joins Sullivan in an Attempt on 
Newport. — Engages the British. — Retires before them on the Ap- 
proach of Clinton. 

Winter quarters at Valley Forge, in the present 
condition of the American army, though promising res- 
pite fi'om the active enterprises of war, contained no 
other promise. Repose, quiet, plenty — all of which 
seem ordinarily implied in such a withdrawal from the 
fields of war — were singularly wanting to our troops on 
this occasion. Without clothing or provisions — without 
order, method, or a proper officer to attend to the duty 
of providing the famished and harassed soldiers — 
Washington was compelled to issue orders to forage, as 
in an enemy's country. This painful duty was devolved 
on Greene. He naturally shrunk from a task so irk- 
some ; but the obligation of service was 2")aramount to 
all others, and, however reluctantly, he complied with 
the requisition. He scoured the woods and meadows, 
and found spoil in plenty. The patriotism of the quakers 
contemplated no sacrifices ; and the gold of Britain, which 
flowed abundantly in Philadelphia, possessed a value, 
in their eyes, very far superior to that which belonged to 
the depreciated currency of Congress. Their cattle and 
provisions, designed for those who could pay in the 
precious metals, were found concealed in swamj) and 
thicket. Greene's scruples at appropriating them, if he 



BECOMES QUARTERMASTER-GENERAL. 65 

had any, were removed by the orders of Congi-ess — the 
resolves of w^hich body rendered liable to impressment 
whatever was wanted for the army within seventy miles 
of the camp. However firmly, he performed his spirit- 
ing gently; with as much order and regard to the sensi- 
bilities of the sufferer, as were consistent with the char- 
acter of the proceeding. 

The manner in which he executed these duties — his 
known habits of method, systematic arrangement, and 
unwearying regard to the smallest details of business — 
suggested to Washington the importance to the army of 
employing him in the department of quartermaster-gen- 
eral. This office, one of the most vitally important to the 
successes and safety of an army, had hitherto been con- 
fided to incompetent persons, by whom it had either been 
grossly neglected or infamously mismanaged. Greene 
was, however, quite unwilling to accept this office. He 
disliked any appointment which required the keeping and 
expenditure-of the public money; and was unwilling to 
forego any of the opportunities which might offer, of 
active performance in the regular line of the army. It 
was only at the earnest entreaty of Washington, who 
appealed to him to make the sacrifice, that he finally 
consented ; stipulating, meanwhile, that he should not 
lose his right of command in action. 

His acceptance of the office, at once relieved the 
commander-in-chief from most of his annoyances on the 
score which had hitherto distressed the ai*my, and threat- 
ened its disbandment. The integrity of Greene, his 
precision, order, comprehensive grasp of details, and 
various resources, produced the happiest effects. Order 
sprang from chaos, light from darkness, and confidence, 
in the minds of the people, from doubt and apprehension. 
The whole course of his administration, in this new 
department, was such as to reflect the highest credit upon 
. 6* 



-66 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

himself, and bring the most incalculable advantages to 
the service. But his couch was by no means spread 
vv^itli roses. This "hutting at Valley Forge" during the 
winter quarters of 1777, was neither a period of hope 
nor repose. It is true that the wives of both Washington 
and Grreene were present in the camp ; but the peace 
of Eden was not implied by the presence of woman in 
the garden. It was during this memorable winter that 
the intrigues which threatened to disturb the peace of 
the country, by the overthrow of Washington, became 
most active under the spells and machinations of Con- 
way, Gates, Lee, and others. " Conway's cabal" is 
sufficiently known to history, to render it needless that 
we should do more than refer to it in this connexion. 
The intimacy of Greene with Washington, rendered it 
natural that he should share in all the odium and all the 
danger by which the commander-in-chief was assailed. 
He, indeed, was the frequent mark, on occasions, when 
Washington was the special victim ; and, where the rank 
and station of the latter rendered him secure against 
the assailant, Greene was usually chosen as the substi- 
tute against whose bosom the shaft of malice might more 
surely tell. In other words, the blow was frequently 
made at Washington over the shoulders of the man who 
was his favorite ; and the hostility thus exercised and 
tutored, continued to rage against him, long after it had 
despaired to do hurt to the more distinguished object of 
dislike. Undoubtedly, a great deal of this hostility was 
due to his individual claims and position. His integrity, 
which they could not shake ; his alliance with Washing- 
ton's cause, which they could not lessen or disturb ; his 
prudence, which they failed to put at fault ; his growing 
reputation, which they vainly endeavored to disparage, 
and which was calculated to compel the finger of public 
confidence to point to him as the only proper successor 



CAMPAIGN OPENS OF 1778. 67 

to Washington, — these were all qualities and circum- 
stances which stimulated the rage of faction, and irritated 
the sore sensibilities of envy and self-esteem. That the 
conspiracy of which Washington and Greene were the 
destined victims, failed utterly of its intended objects, 
did not lessen the anxieties of the injured parties, or pre- 
vent that frequent grief and bitterness, which naturally 
flow to the innocent from such a malicious warfare. 

The season for active operations was now at hand, 
and Washington steadily addressed all his energies to 
the task of preparing his army for its duties. His win- 
ter quarters had not been consumed in idleness. With 
his men and officers, for the first time beneath his eye, 
he had employed the opportunity, which it afforded, of 
improving their common discipline. With his force 
gradually increasing in numbers, he might now reason- 
ably calculate on a campaign, in which a modest con- 
fidence in his own resources might justify him in taking 
the initiate in enterprise. The capture of Burgoyne's 
army was an event which confirmed the revolution at 
home, and determined the doubts of those foreign nations 
who longed, but hesitated, to become allies of the rebel- 
lious colonies. These events led to auguries with regard 
to the forthcoming campaign, which naturally deepened 
the anxieties, while increasing the hopes, of the Ameri- 
cans. That Washington was in a condition to commence 
the campaign at all, was greatly due to the rare and 
valuable exertions of his newly-appointed quartermaster- 
general. 

The British general Howe, meanwhile, had been 
superseded by Sir Henry Clinton. Intelligence, that a 
French fleet had sailed to intercept the British army in 
the Delaware, led to the evacuation of Philadelphia. 
With eleven thousand men, Clinton marched from that 
city, crossing the Delaware on the 18th of June, 1778. 



68 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. 

His course was through the Jerseys. The aim of 
Washington was to thwart this progress, retard the 
march, destroy the enemy in detail, and, if no opportu- 
nity offered for less perilous enterprise, to bring on a 
general action. His force was nearly equal to that of 
the British, and he crossed into the Jerseys about the 
same moment. By the 22d of June, the whole of the 
Americans were on the eastern bank of the Delaware, 
and in a condition and position to offer the enemy battle. 
But, upon the policy of this proceeding, much discussion 
ensued among the American generals. Charles Lee, 
and most of the foreign officers — indeed, a majority of 
the board of war — were decidedly against fighting. 
Wayne and Cadwallader were as decidedly for the arbit- 
rament of the sword, and their opinions were enforced 
by those of Greene, La Fayette, and Hamilton, who, 
without urging battle at all hazard, were disposed to 
follow up the enemy closely, protect the country from 
his ravages, and seize upon whatever chances might 
seem to promise a favorable issue for bringing on the 
final encounter. Lee, whose faith in British valor was 
only surpassed by his utter want of faith in the steadiness 
of the Americans, was opposed to any risks, however 
partial, which might result in conflict. Fortunately, 
Washington had been authorized by an express vote of 
Congress, which had been ascribed to the advice of 
Greene, to exercise his own discretion in regard to the 
decisions of his council. It was' an advisory body, only, 
whose opinions he might follow, or not, under the 
guidance of his own judgment. The opinions of Greene 
and La Fayette determined his resolve against the sug- 
gestions of the majority. *' You wish me to fight," said 
he ; and the orders soon followed which led to the battle 
of Monmouth. 

He had approached this place, following his enemy 



BATTLE OF MONMOUTH. 6$ 

with a close but watchful step, when he came to the 
conclusion that the moment for action had arrived. La 
Fayette, meanwhile, had been detached with a strong 
body of troops, instructed to hang upon the British rear, 
and, with discretion, to act, if circumstances should en- 
courage him to do so. Other detachments, riflemen and 
militia, were in advance of him and on his flanks. To 
protect his enormous baggage-train from these parties, 
Clinton placed them under Knyphausen, with a very strong 
escort, while he united the rest of his force, in the rear, 
to check the too close approach of the parties by which 
it was threatened. The interval between the force of 
Knyphausen, and that by which the rear was accompa- 
nied, suggested to Washington the idea of concentrating 
his assault upon the latter. It was advisable to hasten 
the attack, accordingly, before the enemy should reach 
the high-grouds of Middletown, about twelve miles dis- 
tant, where he would be measurably safe. A strong 
detachment, under Lee, was sent forward to join La- 
fayette, with instructions to engage the enemy, and 
keep him employed until the rest of the forces could 
be brought up. Lee, ranking Lafayette, took the com- 
mand, upon the junction of their separate detachments. 
In pursuance of orders, he proceeded to engage the en- 
emy, but not seemingly with any desire to bring on the 
action in earnest. A very short trial of strength found 
him in full retreat — exhibiting a degree of misconduct 
which the world esteems to have been wilful, and to have 
been prompted by that incendiary spirit, engendered in 
the cabal of Conway, the object of which was to baffle 
the enterprises of Washington, lose him the confidence 
of the country, and thrust him from the eminent position 
which he enjoyed. In this purpose, however, Lee only 
wrecked himself. He was already retiring from the field 
of Monmouth, when Greene, in command of the right 



70 LIFE OP NATIIANAEL GREENE. 

wing, approached the scene of action. He had been 
ordered to a particular position in the rear of the ene- 
my's left, but the change of circumstances, which fol- 
lowed upon the hasty flight of Lee, forced upon him the 
necessity of using his own discretion in the choice of 
another position ; and here it was, according to the com- 
mon opinion, that he rendered the most signal service in 
checking and repelling the pursuit of the British, which 
must otherwise have proved irresistible. Washington, 
on first meeting with Lee in full retreat, indignantly re- 
proached him with his conduct, and commanded him to 
face about and engage his pursuers at all hazards, while 
he brought up the main body of the army to his sup- 
port. Aided by a sharp fire from the artillery of the 
first line, Lee was enabled to obey these orders. He 
turned about in good earnest, and, after a spirited but 
not prolonged conflict, he retired in good order from the 
field. It was during this conflict that Greene appeared 
with his column. A movement of the enemy which 
threatened Washington's right, caused him to order 
Greene to file ofl" from the road to Monmouth, and, 
while the residue of the army pushed directly forward, 
to win his way into the wood in the rear of the courthouse. 
He was already on his route, in obedience to his orders, 
when, foreseeing, from the flight of Lee, that Washington 
must now be exposed to the whole weight of the ene- 
my's attack, he suddenly resolved to adapt his own prog- 
ress to the altered circumstances of the field. He did 
so, and took an advantageous position near the British 
left. This movement, as he had foreseen, diverted their 
attention from the fire of the American army to his own 
division. A most furious attack followed, but was en- 
countered by a cool determination which showed the 
value of the winter discipline which the army had under- 
gone at Valley Forge. The artillery of Greene's divis- 



THE BRITISH RETREAT. 71 

ion was in the charge of General Knox, and, well posted 
upon a commanding situation, poured in a most destruc- 
tive fire upon the assailants. Seconded by the infantry, 
who steadily held their ground, and gave volley upon vol- 
ley from their small-arms, with equal rapidity of fire and 
excellence of aim, the advance of the enemy was checked. 
Repeated efforts of the British serve only to renew their 
disappointments and increase their losses. Their shat- 
tered battalions, which had been greatly thinned by the 
murderous volleys, were at length withdrawn from the 
field, and were finally driven back, under the united ad- 
vance of Greene's and Wayne's infantry, with great 
loss, to the position which they first occupied when Lee 
began the attack. Reconnoitred in this position, with all 
their strength concentrated for its defence, Washington 
perceived the fruitlessness of any renewal of the assault. 
The American army retired accordingly, and slept upon 
their arms that night, Greene, like his commander, taking 
his repose, without couch or pillow, on the naked ground, 
and with no other shelter than a tree, beneath the broad 
canopy of heaven. Nor was this shelter sought, or this 
repose found, until the wounded had been placed in due 
keeping, and every soldier who had fought in his divis- 
ion had been solaced with the best food that the camp 
supplied. With the dawn of morning the enemy was 
gone. They had halted only long enough for a slight 
rest and refreshment, and then silently stole away, with 
such rapidity, as, when their retreat was made known, 
put them beyond the chances of pursuit. If the Ameri- 
cans did not win a victory at Monmouth, they acquired 
many advantages from the combat. Their conduct be- 
trayed the effects of discipline and service — showed 
large improvements in both respects, and led to larger 
hopes and expectations from their continued exercise. 
Lee's disobedience of orders, assuming a discretion which 



72 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. 

the result did not justify, was probably the true reason why 
a complete victory had not been obtained ; yet, if Lee lost 
the victory by his disobedience, it is quite as certain that 
Greene's departure from orders, insured the final safety 
of the army, after the first disaster had endangered it. 
His quickness, the excellence of his judgment in the 
choice of a new position in the moment of exigency, and 
the firmness with which he maintained it, greatly contrib- 
uted to raise his reputation. 

The cloud of war continued to pass to the northward. 
Clinton reached New York in security, while Washing- 
ton inclined to the left, in order to defend the Jerseys, 
and secure the passes of the Highlands. The American 
forces were now in a condition to attempt offensive op- 
erations. Their conduct at Monmouth had inspirited 
the hopes of the people, and the arrival of a French 
fleet, under D'Estaign, which was decidedly superior to 
that of the British, encouraged to the boldest enterpri- 
ses. An attack, of the combined troops of France and 
America, was planned against the British forces in Rhode 
Island. They had held the town of New^port, since the 
fall of 1776, and Clinton, on his retreat from Philadel- 
phia, had increased the strength of his arms in that quar- 
ter, and abundantly supplied them with all the munitions 
of war. To be in train for making an attempt on this 
position, Washington, on the first advices of a French 
fleet to be expected, detached Sullivan to Rhode Island 
with a small army of observation, and with a power to 
make requisitions upon the neighboring militia. When 
the French fleet did arrive, after a grievous season of 
delay, Lafayette was sent, with a reinforcement, to join 
Sullivan. Greene soon followed, and from him, though 
serving under Sullivan, the largest expectations were 
formed. He, himself, was anxious for service in his na- 
tive state ; and he gladly yielded the duties of the quar- 



CONDUCT OF THE FRENCH. 73 

termaster-generars department, for those of more conspic- 
uous performance in the field. His arrival was welcomed 
with delight, volunteers crowded to his standard, and the 
utmost confidence of the result prevailed equally among 
the people and the troops. On the 8th of August, the 
French fleet entered Narraganset bay, under a heavy 
fire from the British batteries, which they quickly passed. 
Preparations for the attempt on Newport were then be- 
gun. A plan of attack was arranged for the next day, 
but was delayed till the 10th, "in consequence of the 
non-arrival of certain troops of Massachusetts and New 
Hampshire." Meanwhile, Pigot, who commanded the 
British, became alarmed for his outer line and withdrew 
the troops from it within the lines by which the town 
was immediately defended, thus abandoning without a 
blow, at least two thirds of the island. With the discov- 
ery of this proceeding, Sullivan instantly crossed, with 
his whole force, to the island, and occupied the lines 
which had been abandoned by the enemy. This move- 
ment gave serious offence to Count D'Estaign, a captain 
who stood very much on etiquette. The next day, in- 
stead of being employed in action, was consumed in dis- 
cussion ; and while D'Estaign was proving himself a 
very prince of punctilio, a new party appeared in the 
field, to engage in the dispute after another fashion. 
This was Lord Howe, in command of the British 
fleet. It was still in the power of the allied forces to 
have captured Newport. The fate of the British gaiTi- 
son was inevitable. The French fleet lay in a position 
of complete security, and the only hope of the wily 
British admiral, was in beguiling his conceited adversary 
from the game which was certain, to the doubtful issue 
of a sea-fight. Melancholy to say, he was successful in 
his object. The French count, who had been captious 
in asserting his supposed authority and resenting fan- 
7 



74 LIFE OP NATIIANAEL GREENE. 

cjied slights from the first moment that he showed himself 
in the country, held it a point of honor to accept the chal- 
lenge of the British fleet, in advance of all other consid- 
erations. He was thus carried out to sea, several days* 
sail,, manoeuvring to get the weather-gage, and finally 
losing the very object of his quest, in a furious gale, 
which separated the rival fleets, and scattered them over 
the ocean. 

Left thus to their own resources, the situation of the 
Americans became embarrassing, if not full of danger. 
There were but eight thousand men fit for duty, and 
more than half of these were militia. The British were 
nearly the same number, well chosen, under excellent 
discipline, and protected by the most admirable works 
of art. To carry the place by storm was out of the 
question. To maintain themselves against the enemy, 
when any amount of reinforcements could be brought in 
twenty-four hours from New York, was not possible ; 
yet, to abandon an enterprise which had been undertaken 
under such encouraging auspices, and when they might 
hourly look for the reappearance of the French fleet, was 
a resolution which the American general was exceed- 
ingly loath to adopt. Thus undecided, an attempt was 
made to operate by leaguer ; but, before ground could 
be broken, a storm of the greatest violence arose, which, 
for three days, raged with a fury such as marks only the 
terrible hurricanes of the lower latitudes. The opera- 
tions of the army were suspended ; their tents, tools, and 
provisions, destroyed ; ammunition and arms made unfit 
for service; and the hearts of the soldiery, already 
daunted by the disappearance of their allies upon whom 
they had counted so confidently, were oppressed by the 
most gloomy auguries. Ten days of painful suspense 
followed, in which the Americans lay before the garrison 
of the enemy, divided between hope and apprehension, 



CONDITION OF THE FRENCH FLEET. 75 

and distressed by tlie most humiliating incertitude. For- 
tunately, during this period, though Clinton was making 
his preparations for the relief of the place, no enterprises 
were attempted by the British which could increase their 
perils. At length, the French fleet reappeared, and 
bore in toward the land. But the storm had made itself 
felt among their shattered frigates. Full of confidence, 
and sanguine now of success from the co-0]3eration of 
their allies, the Americans prepared to prosecute the 
assault on Newport. But, what was their discomfiture 
when apprized by D'Estaign that he was no longer in a 
situation to afford them any assistance. He was com- 
pelled to go to Boston to refit. It was all-important to 
the American general to effect a change in this resolu- 
tion. Greene and Lafayette were accordingly despatched 
to the fleet to confer with the French commander. It 
was in vain that they argued and entreated. The co- 
operation of two days only was implored ; and Greene 
pledged himself that, under cover of the guns from the 
shipping, he would plant himself firmly within the lines 
of the enemy. But the French count was inflexible. 
We have already seen that he had his weaknesses. 
The miserable regard to etiquette which had prompted 
him to forego the game within his grasp, for that which 
might, and did, elude it, was in proof, to a certain degree, 
of his incompetence for such a trust as that which had 
been confided to him. For his farther conduct, there is 
some excuse. He was unpopular with his oflScers ; and 
the council of war, which had been called to decide 
upon the arguments and entreaties of the American 
general, sufl[iced to show to Greene the progress of such 
a spirit of discontent and disaffection on board the 
French fleet, as might well render its admiral reluctant 
to engage in any enterprises of great responsibility. It 
does not concern us to inquire the causes of D'Estaign's 



76 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. 

unpopularity with his officers. Enough that it sei-ved to 
deprive the Americans of all the anticipated succor from 
their allies 

Great was the mortification and indignation of Greene, 
when compelled to carry back to the camp the final 
refusal of the French admiral. There, it produced noth- 
ing but dismay. Another effort was made to stay the 
departure of the fleet ; or, at least, to secure the co-oper- 
ation of the land forces. But it proved equally ineffec- 
tual with the former. D'Estaign pursued his voyage to 
Boston ; and, to increase the fears and dangers of the 
Americans, it was now understood that Clinton was rap- 
idly approaching from New York. These tidings com- 
pleted their panic and disappointment. The militia could 
no longer be detained. That very night, they deserted 
in such numbers, that, with the morning, Sullivan found 
his force reduced from eight to five thousand men. 

The situation of the army had now become sufficiently 
perilous ; and, in silence and darkness, on the night of 
the 2Sth of August, the camp was broken up ; the whole 
American force retreating to the shelter of a couple of 
redoubts, which had been raised on the north end of the 
island. Their departure was discovered with the dawn, 
and a pursuit was instantly commenced by the British in 
two strong columns. Greene, with the gallant regiments 
of Colonels Livingston and Laurens, covered the retreat- 
ing movement ; and, under their steady valor and admi- 
rable order, the whole army reached its point of desti- 
nation, and was at once drawn up in order of battle. 
They had scarcely put themselves in trim for fighting, 
when a brisk fire from the enemy announced their close 
approach. Under the belief that they had pressed forward 
in detached bodies, which might be cut off separately, 
Greene was for marching out to meet them promptly, and 
before the several divisions could arrive to the support 



AFFAIR AT NEWPORT. T7 

of each other ; but this counsel was rejected as too full 
of periL The troops were held on the defensive, only. 
G-reene commanded on the right, and, from a redoubt in 
his front, a cannonading was maintained throughout the 
day upon the enemy. This was warmly answered from 
an opposite hill, of which the British had possession. 
At two in the afternoon, they made an attempt to turn 
the American right, and concentrated on this point all 
the effective force which could be brought to operate. 
Reinforcements were soon ordered to this point, and the 
engagement that followed was equally prolonged and 
desperate. Here, Greene was in immediate command. 
His force was doubled by that of the assailants, but his 
troops were among the best in the army, and now amply 
declared, by their cool and steady valor, the admirable 
training which they had received at Valley Forge. He 
was not less fortunate in his officers. They sustained 
the unequal conflict with a spirit worthy of the most 
stubborn veterans ; and the enemy was finally repulsed 
with great slaughter — repulsed, rather than defeated. 
The British were picked soldiers, also ; and they retired, 
in good order, to the hill from which they had descended 
to the attack. The engagement was a partial one. It 
relieved the Americans from present pressure, but did 
not extricate them from their difficulties. Though not 
conclusive, it did honor to the American arms, and was 
particularly gratifjdng, in its results, to G-reene, who was 
fighting in sight of his birthplace. Hundreds of the 
militia, who emptied their guns from walls and fences, 
were nerved to the most desperate exertions, as they felt 
that they fought beneath the eye of one of their own 
kindred. Greene, himself, felt how many eyes of kin- 
dred — how many dear friends and old associates — were 
watching anxiously the behavior of their former com- 
rade. There was one, dearer than all in his sight, who, 
•7* 



78 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

sitting by their own lonely hearthstone, could hear the 
deep and hollow reverberation of every shot, in the long 
and heavy cannonade that day. The battle was resumed, 
at long shot, with the next. But, '* though most vigor- 
ously pursued and repeatedly attacked," was the language 
of the very enemies of Greene, " yet, in every quarter 
where an opening was made, he took his measures so 
well, and had chosen his posts so judiciously, that, 
although much honor was claimed and deserved on both 
sides, he gained the north end of the island without sus- 
taining any considerable loss." He barely saved his 
distance in doing so. Another day, and the Americans 
would have been totally cut off by the overwhelming 
force, with which, the very night of his departure. Sir 
Henry Clinton appeared on the ground. He found the 
nest still .warm. The Americans had crossed to the 
main in security; and their assailants, warned by the 
sharpness and loss of the previous encounter, were not 
sufficiently desperate to pursue them. 



DEFENCE OP SULLIVAN. 79 



CHAPTER VL 

Greene defends Sullivan for tlie Affair in Rhode Island. — Difficulties with 
Congi-ess in regard to the Duties of duartermaster-General. — Anecdote 
of his Brother. — Resigns from his Office, and offends Congress. — De- 
bates in that Body. — Greene commands at the Battle of Springfield. 

The failure of this expedition, on the part of the Amer- 
icans, from whom so much had been expected, occasioned 
deep mortification, and a wide excitement. Blame fell 
heavily upon the officers in command of the expedition, and 
Greene naturally came in for his share of the reproach. 
A visit to the abode of his father, which he took occasion 
to make about this time, was chiefly employed in prepar- 
ing an elaborate exposition of the true causes of the 
failure of the enterprise, in an energetic defence of Sul- 
livan. This paper appears in the form of a letter, in 
which a frank and generous ardor speaks unreservedly 
the opinions of a mind secure in its position, and gov- 
erned by the most uncalculating rectitude. His visit to his 
birthplace was thus employed in a manner which was quite 
inconsistent with the opportunity afforded him and the 
objects by which he was surrounded. In the homestead 
of his youth, with the old familiar faces in his sight, one 
would naturally seek escape from the thoughts of sti'ife 
and the recollections of war. Greene had now been 
more than three years away from his home. He had only 
once passed through it, in all this time, while hun-ying 
from the siege of Boston to the defence of Long Island. 
During this period, change had necessarily been at work. 
The administration of his affairs had been confided to 



80 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

Others. The family estate had been divided, he simply- 
assenting to all that had been done, and taking and re- 
ceiving, without inquiry, the portion which had been 
allotted him. A few days only were stolen for his delay 
at Coventry, when he hurried on to Boston, where he 
was called by his duties as quartermaster-general. Here 
he strove, and not unsuccessfully, to conciliate Count 
D'Estaign, whom his former deportment had greatly 
prepossessed in his favor. This labor of love was equally 
politic and amiable. It was one evil result of the failure 
of the expedition against Newport, that it prompted the 
American officers to such an expression of their indig- 
nation, at the conduct of the French, as must have 
greatly vexed the self-esteem and increased the soreness 
of the latter. Sullivan, himself, had expressed himself 
in language of a character which was likely to be greatly 
oifensive to the government of France. To soften the 
offence, and mollify the feelings which it might produce, 
was equally the care of Washington and Greene. An 
opportunity occurred to the latter, in which his prompt 
decision was of the last importance in preventing new 
cause of provocation. It was desirable that Congress 
should be put in possession of all the facts relating to 
the expedition against Newport, through some confiden- 
tial agent, having authority to speak, and without resort- 
ing to any means, such as a court of inquiry, which would 
give publicity to the particulars obtained. Greene was 
sent by Washington for the purpose of making these 
revelations. He repaired to Philadelphia, and, by a 
unanimous vote of Congress, was invited to a seat on the 
floor, and shown to a chair beside the president. Henry 
Laurens at this time occupied the chair; and, but a few 
moments had elapsed, after Greene had taken his seat, 
when a communication from the governor of Rhode 
Island was announced, and an order passed that it should 



TACT OF GREENE IN CONGRESS. 81 

be read. Conceiving, instantly, the character of the docu- 
ment, and that it embodied the same feeling and senti- 
ments with those of Sullivan and others, which had al- 
ready given so much offence, Greene seized the moment, 
while the clerk was unsealing the envelope, to convey to 
the president a slip of paper, on which he had written, 
" For God's sake, do not let that paper be read until you 
have looked it over." His suspicion was instantly adopt- 
ed by the president, who, in a whisper, arrested the 
progress of the clerk. A call for the order of the day, 
judiciously interposed at this moment, diverted attention 
from the governor's despatch, which, in fact, embodied 
a remonstrance against the conduct of D'Estaign, such 
as could not but have painfully outraged the French 
minister, who, with his suite, D'Estaign himself, and other 
distinguished persons of his nation, was, at that very mo- 
ment, in the gallery. It is difficult to say what might 
have been the degree of mischief done, had not the happy 
tact of the Rhode Island blacksmith interposed for its 
prevention. Greene, in fact, was quite as m.uch a politi- 
cian as a general. 

The year 1778 terminated without affording any op- 
portunity of distinction to our subject, except in his capa- 
city of quartermaster-general. With the departure of Sul- 
livan from Rhode Island, the British army under Clinton re- 
turned to New York. Their enterprises were no longer of 
a character to merit the attention of the historian. They 
degenerated into predatory expeditions only, in which 
recklessness rather than courage, crime rather than com- 
bat, were the distinguishing features. The details of this 
career, as it nowhere involves the progress of Greene, will 
not require more of our notice. The campaign of 1779 
opened with characteristics not much more reputable. In- 
deed, all things tended to show that the British army, hope- 
less of making any decided impression in a region where 



82 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. 

the nature of the chmate and the characteristics of the 
country offered few opportunities of successful enterprise, 
and where the absence of available wealth among the peo- 
ple, held forth as few inducements to it, had really relin- 
quished all hopes of effecting a conquest of the states north 
of the Chesapeake. Their eyes were now naturally turned 
upon the southern states, where a more scattered popu- 
lation, and, in some places, greater opulence, promised a 
more easy progress and more abundant spoils. The north- 
ern armies, on both sides, were now chiefly employed in 
watching each other, seizing upon small lapses of conduct, 
and engaging in enterprises, which afforded employment 
rather than results. The British government, during 
this campaign, appeared scarcely sensible of the neces- 
sity of making adequate efforts to reduce the colonies, 
strengthened as they were by foreign alliance ,• and was, 
in fact, too busily employed upon the ocean and abroad, 
to concentrate her resources upon this object. The 
Americans, on the other hand, were, in a large degree, 
enfeebled by this very alliance, and attached so much 
importance to what was to be done for them by France, 
that, in the northern states, at least, they were scarcely 
disposed to do anything for themselves. New England, 
in particular, from the moment of the withdrawal of the 
enemy from her own coasts and cities, and the appear- 
ance of the foreign auxiliaries in the country, regarded 
the contest with an apathy and indifference strangely in 
conflict with her previous activity and warmth. 

To a certain extent, as a natural consequence of the 
inactivity of the British, this apathy prevailed in all the 
colonies. It did not, however, prevent the growth of 
jealousies and dissensions, such as ordinarily flow from 
the selfish hopes of partisans, and the diseased ambition 
of distinguished men. Assuming the war as really at an 
end, — calculating largely upon the simple effect of the 



DISSENSIONS IN CONGRESS. 83 

alliance with France as conclusive to this effect, — not 
regarding how much more naturally such an alliance 
would provoke the worst passions of the British, rather 
than their fears, and bring down upon the colonies the 
whole volume of that long-nursed national prejudice and 
hostility which had been engendered between the two 
great nations by the protracted strifes of centuries, the 
Americans yielded themselves up to those domestic strug- 
gles for power and place, which, but for their premature 
assumption of safety, would never, perhaps, have been 
allowed to discredit their honorable achievements. Con- 
gress was the theatre for these dissensions. It was rap- 
idly growing into disrepute among the people. The 
states had their own discontents and strifes, and no longer 
felt disposed to comply with the federal requisitions. 
The army, badly clothed and fed, and impatient of the neg- 
lect which answered its complaints and expostulations — 
worn out with the drudgery of the wa"f, without being 
enlivened with the excitements of battle — was daily 
sinking in repute and lessening in numbers. The system 
by which it was to be sustained, that of depending upon 
the states for the maintenance of quotas, instead of re- 
sorting to regular enlistments, was one of fatal errors, 
against which the intelligent officers of the army were 
remonstrating always, and constantly in vain. Public 
credit, a subject equally important, needing even more 
fostering, was rapidly undergoing destruction in the 
equally unwise system of resorting to expedients, instead 
of, at once, honestly and frankly declaring a necessity, 
and boldly advancing to contend with it. In this con- 
dition of things, nothing was done toward the promotion 
of the cause of independence ; nothing, certainly, was 
gained for its popularity ; and, in all probability, a great 
deal already gained was forfeited. The year 1779 was 
marked by nothing in the councils of the nation, and as 



84 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

little in the business of the field, which could confer 
credit upon the revolution, or render its progress per- 
manent. No general action occurred to call Greene away 
from the bureau of the quartermaster-general, in which, 
by the way, he endured as much toil, and enjoyed as few 
consolations, as could have been found under any for- 
tunes, directly in the pathway of a powerful enemy. 

The ambitious strifes and dissensions in Congress did 
not, of course, suffer him, or his administration of affairs, 
to escape severe and unfriendly comment. If the mem- 
bers of that great national council could not perform 
themselves, they had sufficient leisure for prompt judg- 
ment on the performances of others. The departments 
of the quartermaster and commissary were subjects of 
particular inquiry, and the most unfounded complaints 
were put in circulation against the mode in which their 
duties were administered. There is a vicious appetite 
in man, that makes it rather grateful to him to listen to 
the story of his neighbor's shame ; and the ear which 
hearkens only to a conjecture and a suspicion of miscon- 
duct, is very apt, in the next moment, to find for it a 
tongue of evil, which soon converts it to a tale of crime. 
Greene suffered from these suspicions. Secure in the 
favorable opinion of Washington, and in the approving 
voice of his own conscience, though stung and mortified 
to the quick by indirect imputations which he could not 
condescend to combat, he was only persuaded to retain 
his office in consideration of the difficulties by which it 
was environed, and of the vital importance, to the cause, 
of its energetic administration. But rumors, equally of 
his incompetence, and against his honesty, continued to 
circulate. They, at length, reached the ears of his kin- 
dred, and occasioned an interesting and touching incident, 
which reflects honorably on the character of that train- 
ing by which the venerable old quaker, his sire, had 



",i ,;i'!i'' 




ti 



Interview between Greene and his Brother. — Page 85. 



GREENE AND HIS BROTHER. 85 

striven to inform the sensibilities of his children, with an 
appetite as eager for virtuous name, as for popular 
renown. The report which disparaged the honest fame 
of our subject, at length, reached one of his brothers in 
Rhode Island. Greene's quarters, at this time, were 
near Morristown. The parties were separated by a 
space of nearly two hundred miles ; yet, the moment 
that the brother heard the humiliating story, he took 
horse and hurried to the army. Greene's cordial recep- 
tion of his guest met with no answering sympathy. The 
brother, before he opened his heart to the embrace 
which it yet solicited, v/as first to learn that he dealt with 
an honest man. He demanded a private interview, which 
was at once vouchsafed him. " I am come, brother," he 
said, in a voice nearly choked by emotion, " to inform 
you that you are charged with improper conduct in your 
office. Are you innocent 1" With an affectionate smile, 
a calm voice, clear countenance, and a hand pressed 
upon his heart, Greene answered, instantly, " I am !" 
The assurance was satisfactory. The brother knew, 
from the experience of long and trusting years, what 
degree of confidence could be yielded to such an assu- 
rance. It was then that he embraced him, and, happy 
and relieved, he departed as suddenly as he came. He 
had but one object in the interview, and, the single inter- 
rogation answered, he had no other motive for delay. 

But the communication sunk deeply into the heart of 
Greene. He had met the inquiry of his brother with a 
smile. With clear and unembarrassed brow and eye, 
he had answered the painful question ; but he did not 
the less suffer from the cruel wound which it inflicted, 
and he resolved, as soon as possible, to break away from 
the shackles of an office, equally responsible and burden- 
some, in which he had toiled without regard to selfish 
considerations — in spite of them indeed — and had 
'8 



86 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

reaped reproach and suspicions, instead of gratitude. 
Fortunately for the fame of Greene, calumny itself, with 
all its agents, was not able to oppose the unquestionable 
evidence which his friends could produce, in favor of the 
administration of his department, and in proof of his 
own integrity. Congress, after an inquiry, passed a reso- 
lution, declaring its confidence in his ability and integ- 
rity. Greene was sufficiently soothed by this resolution 
to listen to the entreaties of the commander-in-chief, and 
of the army, that he would not relinquish the department 
he had so ably managed. But calumny was not so easily 
silenced : the creature was very soon, again, at her dirty 
work. A remnant of the old faction of Conway, no 
longer able to hurt Washington, were always eager to 
wreak their malice upon Greene. To such a degree did 
they carry this malice, that it was even designed, if pos- 
sible, to deprive him of his command in the line. But 
their most obvious game was to impeach his integrity. 
He was supposed, or asserted, to have made a fortune 
by his office ; while, in truth, he was about to retire from 
it something poorer than when he entered it. It had 
been to him, indeed, like that supper of the Barmecides, 
in the Arabian tale, in which, without a single dish be- 
fore him, he was required to fancy that he enjoyed the 
most delicious variety. A resolution from the treasury 
board required a statement of his accounts. For this 
performance, but ' twenty-seven days were allowed him. 
He expostulated against the unreasonable and oppres- 
sive requisition, demonstrating the moral and physical 
impossibility of traversing such a wide and various field 
of investigation in such a space of time. An additional 
month was grudgingly allowed him, while a committee 
was appointed to inquire into the condition of his de- 
partment. The investigation resulted in his triumph. 
The members of this committee, to borrow the language 



Greene's troubles in office. 87 

of one of them, " entered upon the investigation with 
the strongest prejudices, and closed it with a unanimous 
conviction of his ability, fidelity, and zeal." Here, then, 
was a favorable opportunity for Greene to withdraw 
from the ungracious service in which he was engaged, 
and resume his station in the line, which he had always 
greatly preferred; hut Washington was unwilling to 
lose him, in a capacity in which he could render services 
of so much importance ; and a scheme for the regulation 
of the department was drawn up by the commander-in 
chief, in conjunction with a committee of Congress, 
which Grreene entirely approved of, and which he pro- 
fessed himself willing to administer, without other pay 
than that which accrued to him from his commission as 
major-general. But Congress, with its numerous amend- 
ments, so mutilated the plan submitted by Washington 
through its own committee, as to depart from all its most 
essential particulars. Under these circumstances, Greene 
no longer hesitated to make his escape from an office, in 
which he had. neither enjoyed repose, nor realized profit. 
There was no sufficient motive to remain in a depart- 
ment which subjected him to equal annoyance and mor- 
tification. His preference was wholly given to active 
duties in the line ; and indeed, as we remember, he had 
stipulated for the privilege of resuming his military rank 
and duties whenever a general engagement was antici- 
pated. Thus feeling and desiring, it was with a senti- 
ment of relief and pride that he covered his" ^Resignation 
to Congress, of the office of quartermaster-general, re- 
questing that body to appoint his successor without loss 
of time. He declared his own resolution no longer to 
officiate in the office, except so far as was necessary to 
close up his accounts, and to set fairly in operation the 
new system, as adopted, for the future government of 
the department. 



88 LIFE OP NATIIANAEL GREENE. 

This letter, so proud in tone and so peremptory in 
requisition, gave great offence to Congress, and was 
instantly seized upon, as so much capital for hostile 
declamation, on the part of his own and the enemies of 
Washington. One member immediately rose, and pro- 
posed that he be dismissed from the service altogether. 
He had warm and powerful friends in the house, who 
combated this attack. A keen and exciting discussion 
followed, which ended in referring the letter of Greene 
to a committee. The report of this committee embodied 
the hostile sentiment, and concluded with a resolve, that 
** the resignation of Nathanael G-reene be accepted, and 
that he be informed that Congress have no farther use 
for his services." This report proves something more 
than hostility to Greene. It proves that the party against 
Washington was in the ascendency in Congress. But 
neither his nor Greene's friends, in that body, were pre- 
pared to suffer the question to go by default. For ten 
days, the report was under consideration ; and, during 
the greater part of this time, was the subject of fierce 
discussion. Still, Congress was exacting, and the sup- 
posed offender incorrigibly firm. He better knew his 
grounds of security than did his enemies. The discus- 
sion was not confined to Congress. The people and the 
army partook of the excitement, and Greene felt sure 
of a verdict of acquittal and approval at their hands, if 
he might look in no higher quarter. His cause, indeed, 
was that of the army. They needed no arguments, in 
his behalf, more satisfactory than their better care and 
provision, their increased comforts and resources, during 
his administration, than they had ever enjoyed when 
Mifflin, the leader, in Congress, of the opposition against 
him, had occupied tlie very office in which Greene had 
superseded him. But the excitement gradually subsided. 
Warned by the threatening aspect of the army, exhorted 



GREENE RESIGNS AS QUARTERMASTER. 89 

by the letters of Washington himself, and recovering, by 
delay, a better tone and temper than had lately impressed 
their deliberations, Congress gradually cooled off; and, 
when the vote was finally taken, his resignation as quar- 
termaster-general was accepted, as tendered, without 
any farther allusions to his commission in the line. 

In the former capacity, Greene was succeeded by 
Colonel Pickering ; but for two months he still continued 
to execute the duties of the office, and prepare it for his 
successor. He had borne the heavy burthen for nearly 
three years, and had placed the department in very good 
condition, all circumstances considered. His successor, 
though of unquestionable ability and integrity, was not 
so fortunate. The department suffered in his hands ; and 
six months' experiments were sufficient to satisfy the 
worst enemies of Greene, as well as his best friends, how 
much injury had been done to the country by the cap- 
tious and cruel interference which had driven him from 
duties he was so peculiarly calculated to fulfil. 

The hostility against our subject began to subside the 
moment he was relieved from the office which he had 
only continued to hold by the persuasions of others, and 
against his own desires. He gladly resumed his duties 
in the line. We have noted his military career to the 
close of the campaign in Rhode Island. A brief sum- 
mary of events, in the history of the war, is perhaps ne- 
cessary for the purpose of preserving the continuity of 
our narrative. Withdrawing his troops from Rhode 
Island, somewhere in the autumn of 1779, Sir Henry 
Clinton proceeded, with all despatch, to New York, 
where he apprehended the arrival of D'Estaign, with his 
fleet once more refitted, and prepared for some leading 
enterprise. The French commander was now opei^ting 
with Lincoln against Savannah, which was in possession of 
the British. With the fall of Savannah, which was confi- 
8* 



90 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

dently anticipated, D'Estaign was to unite with the com- 
mander-in-chief in an attempt upon New York. But 
Savannah did not fall. Admirably defended by the Brit- 
ish, th&united forces of the French and Americans re- 
coiled, with terrible loss, from its batteries, which the 
injudicious indulgence and overweening confidence of 
D'Estaign, in his own strength, had given the enemy 
sufficient time to perfect. This defeat was one of the 
disasters which contributed to the final conquest of South 
Carolina, the troops of which state suffered severely at 
Savannah. Disgraced and mortified, D'Estaign, instead 
of moving upon New York, sailed for the West Indies, 
while the ariival of a strong British fleet under Arbuth- 
not, enabled Clinton to operate offensively, and to con- 
centrate all his energies for the prosecution of a design, 
long entertained, and twice already defeated, upon 
Charleston and the southern states. It was in Decem- 
ber, 1779, that the British general sailojd from New York, 
with the best part of his army, on his expedition against 
Charleston, leaving behind him a force under Generals 
Knyphausen and Patterson, which was deemed quite 
equal to the duty of keeping at bay the skeleton regi- 
ments under Washington. Had the New England 
troops been only half as numerous in the field as they 
have ever been on paper, New York must have fallen ; 
but the American army under the commander-in-chief, 
was really less in numbers than the garrison in that city. 
It will not concern us to pursue the career of Clinton in 
the south. Suffice it, that Charleston was taken, and the 
British general returned to New York on the 17th of 
June, 1780. During his absence, his substitutes were 
busy in enterprises rather petty — and perhaps profita- 
ble — than brilliant ; acquiring reputation as successful 
marauders, rather than daring conquerors. With the 
return of Clinton, preparations were made for something 



BRITISH THREATEN SPRINGFIELD. 91 

more serious on the part of the British ; and the Ameri- 
can general was kept on the qui vive, uncertain where to 
look for the approaching danger. Anxious for the safety 
of his garrison on the North river, Washington left 
Greene, with two brigades of continentals and the Jer- 
sey militia, at Springfield, in New Jersey ; while he, 
himself, moving slowly but steadily for the north, pre- 
pared to take command at West Point. The move- 
ments of the British general seemed to menace this re- 
gion. His complete command of the New York waters, 
naturally indicated West Point as accessible to enter- 
prise ; and this citadel of the nation, which held its armo- 
ries and magazines, and constituted the key to a wide 
and important interior, compelled Washington to antici- 
pate every danger by which it might be threatened, and 
to make its safety conspicuous in his regards over almost 
every other consideration. But he had not proceeded a 
dozen miles from Morristown, on his march for the north,^ 
when, on the 23d of June, the heads of the British columns 
were advanced from Elizabethtown in the direction of 
Springfield. It was here that a considerable supply of mil- 
itary stores and munitions of war had been deposited ; and 
the force of the British, now moving on this quarter, con- 
sisting of five thousand men, a large body of cavalry, and 
fifteen or twenty pieces of artillery, commanded by Clin- 
ton in person, was quite too large to leave it doubtful 
that his demonstration was a serious one. Washington 
was soon advised, by express from Grreene, of the threat- 
ened danger to his post, while the latter prepared with 
all his energies to meet the emergency. This was the 
first occasion in which he was in possession of an inde- 
pendent command ; and he soon satisfied all parties of 
his admirable capacity to enjoy it. No movement of the 
enemy had been taken without his knowledge, and with 
the first show of danger, the commander-in-chief was 



92' LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

apprized of its approach. To do much with small means 
is one of the highest proofs of excellence in any sort of 
performance. It is, perhaps, one of the most admirable 
tests of a genius for the military. Greene's force was an 
humble one, and it was employed in detail to guard nu- 
merous passes. To draw together his detached bodies, 
was the first necessity, and to economize time in doing 
so, was a part of this necessity. To hasten the remote 
detachments to a point of rendezvous, and to order the 
several bodies, more within his control, to advance and 
retard the progress of the enemy, were simultaneous, 
and the work of an instant. 

About eight miles from Elizabeth point the village of 
Springfield lies, upon the western bank of the Rahway, 
a little stream formed by the confluence of two other 
and smaller streams. A range of hills formed the back- 
ground, and was the position, naturally a strong one, 
which the American army occupied. The village was 
accessible by two roads from Elizabethtown, one run- 
ning through Springfield, the other north of it. The 
usual facilities for crossing the Rahway and its branches, 
by fords and bridges, were present, and rendered the 
stream itself no sort of obstacle to an enemy's approach. 
To guard these bridges, three in number, and to cover the 
two great routes which led to them, were the only means 
of protecting the village ; but this required such an ex- 
tensive front as was scarcely within the compass of 
G-reene's numbers to exhibit. His proper policy, there- 
fore, was to push forward select bodies to check the ad- 
vance of the British columns separately, as they approach- 
ed on the diff*erent roads, while, from his position on the 
heights, he could extend succor to either of these bodies, 
as they separately seemed to require it. Colonel Dayton 
was advanced, accordingly, to skirmish with the left col- 
umn of the enemy, while Major Lee, afterward famous 



SKIRMISHES ON THE RAHWAY. 93 

as the leader of the partisan legion, with his dragoons 
and a small force of infantry, was despatched to perform 
the same duty against their right. The whole force of 
Greene was but thirteen hundred men, and of these, three 
hundred were militia. He disposed, these, as we have 
seen, to the best advantage, to economize their strength, 
and gain time ; and he had no reason to complain of the 
manner in which the skirmishing forces under Lee and 
Dayton performed the tasks assigned them. They made 
a spirited resistance to the enemy's approach, and offered 
all the opposition that squadrons so inferior could make ; 
but without being able to prevent the junction of the as- 
sailing columns, which at length united upon the main 
road, and made their appearance almost as soon as 
Greene's troops, on the right bank of the Rahway, were 
drawn out to receive them. His artillery was posted 
behind the bridges by which the principal stream was 
crossed ; that of the enemy was in advance of his col- 
umns. A brisk cannonade ensued, which continued with 
great spirit for nearly two hours. The manoeuvi'es of 
the British, meanwhile, manifested a desire to turn the 
American left, and thus get into its rear. This, as 
Greene well knew, was practicable. Both the streams 
from which the Rahway took its rise, were passable, as 
well by fords as by the bridge on the Vauxhall road. 
The possession of the hills in his rear would be decisive 
against him. It was necessary, therefore, that a new 
position should be taken; and Lee, with the pickets un- 
der Walker, and assisted by Ogden, was assigned to the 
defence of the bridge over the southern branch of the 
Rahway ; to the regiment of Shreve was given in charge 
the upper bridge, over the chief branch, while Colonel 
Angel, with a like force, and one field-piece, was left to 
defend the passage of the principal stream. With the 
residue of his force, consisting of Stark's and Max- 



t# LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. 

well's bi'igacles, Greene retired to a strong- position 
among the hills in the rear, his flanks being guarded by 
militia. 

With the first movement of the main body, the British 
advanced upon the bridge which was held by Angel. 
Their assault, aiming to force the passage, was fell and 
furious. They were resisted, however, with a rare spirit, 
and recoiled from their first onset with loss and confu- 
sion. But this success was, necessarily, temporary only. 
How could such a handful of men resist, for any length of 
time, a formidable column of the foe, flushed with con- 
fidence in experience and numbers, and bringing with 
them ten pieces of artillery. The assault was renewed, 
but the struggle was maintained, stubbornly, for fifty 
minutes, until one fourth of the force of the American 
colonel were killed or wounded. It was not then, nor 
until he knew that Grreene had reached his destined 
position, that Angel drew off* his division, bringing away 
with him his artillery and wounded, and coolly, and in 
good order, retiring to the other bridge, where Shreve 
was in position. 

Equally obstinate was the defence made by Lee at 
the pass confided to his keeping. Assailed by the right 
column of the enemy, he met the attack with a firmness 
and gallantry, which only forebore the struggle in the 
moment of its utter hopelessness. The stream was 
already crossed, by a considerable body of the enemy, 
at an upper ford ; and these, having gained a hill by 
which his position was commanded, compelled Lee, very 
reluctantly, to abandon the post which he had so nobly 
held. Pushing on at the heels of these two divisions, 
the British encountered the detachment under Shreve, 
now strengthened by the united battahons of Lee and 
Angel. Animated by the gallant example of the troops 
under these officers, those of Shreve prepared to give a 






THE BRITISH BURN SPRINGFIELD. 95 

no less determined reception to the enemy. Tlie onset 
of the British was met with a welcome of shot and steel 
which made them shy and reluctant; and, tliough ad- 
vancing still, they did so in a manner sufficiently modest, 
to enable Shreve to retire, coolly and without confusion, 
upon the main body. Here, with his regular force 
drawn up in a single line, in a commanding position, 
flanked by the dragoons and militia, Greene calmly stood 
in waiting for the general battle. But the enterprise of 
the assailants had been wonderfully cooled by the obsti- 
nate conflicts through which they had already gone. 
They had been handled too roughly, by the small 
divisions with which they had been engaged, to venture 
upon the entire force of the Americans, while they pre- 
sented a front so determined, and occupied a position so 
strong. Taught to fear by the loss which they had 
already sustained, and stung to fury for the same reason, 
they sought for their victims among those from whose 
weapons they had nothing to apprehend. Avoiding 
the conflict which Greene stood prepared to give them, 
they concentrated their wrath upon the defenceless vil- 
lage ; anS the flames of its houses soon apprized the 
American general of the sort of vengeance which the 
British were disposed to seek. Then it was, that the 
shai'pshooters of the Americans, and the militia, panting 
to avenge the sufferings of their houseless innocents, 
were let slip upon the scattered marauders. They stole 
do ivn to the scene of conflagration ; and many a Briton, 
that day, perished by the light of the very flame which 
his incendiary torch had kindled. With the general 
conflagration of the village — for only four, out of fifty, 
dwellings escaped — the British begun their retreat, 
hastened, no doubt, by apprehensions of the approach 
of Washington. Small parties of the Americans were 
instantly pushed forward, to hang upon their wings and 



9^ LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

harass their flight ; while the brigade of Starke was also 
put in motion for direct pursuit. Washington had 
already despatched three hundred men to Greene's 
assistance, and was, himself, rapidly hurrying to the 
scene of action. But the celerity with which the British 
fled, unencumbered by any baggage, and protected by a 
powerful rear-guard, saved them from any farther injury 
than that which they had sustained in the encounters of 
the day, and in the after-gleanings which were made, of 
deliberately-chosen victim's, by the rifles of the enraged 
militia. The British reached Elizabethtown in safety, 
and that night recrossed to the city. Their only real 
achievement, that of the destruction of a harmless vil- 
lage, reflected no credit upon their chivalry ; while their 
failure to effect anything against the vastly inferior force 
of Greene, was as little creditable to their skill and 
valor. Greene's reputation as a cool and experienced 
captain — one of great resources, and of wonderful cir- 
cumspection — was greatly increased by this aff*air. The 
Annual Register (British), speaking of the conduct of 
the Americans on this occasion, remarks : " It was now 
evident, that the British forces had an enemy kittle less 
respectable in the field than themselves to encounter; 
and that any difference which yet remained in their 
favor would be daily lessened. In a word, it was now 
obvious, that all that superiority in arms which produced 
such effects, in the beginning of the contes't, was, in a 
great measure, at an end; and that the events of the 
w^ar must, in future, depend upon fortune, and upon the 
abilities of the respective commanders." 



Clinton's designs on the south. 97 



CHAPTER VIL 

Demonstrations on New York. — Treason of Arnold. — Greene appointed 
to the Post at West Point. — Gates's Defeat. — Greene succeeds him 
in Command of the Southern Army. — Proceeds to the South. — Joins 
the AiTuy at Charlotte, N. C. — Treatment of Gates. 

With the affair at Springfield, ended, for a season, 
all the active operations of the campaign. The com- 
mander of the British seemed disposed to give his troops 
a respite, and w^as, perhaps, somewhat restrained from 
attempting anything at the north, in consequence of the 
threatened appearance of a fleet and army from France, 
in co-operation w^ith the Americans. Besides, as already 
suggested, he was preparing to shift the scene of action, 
wholly, to the south. By cutting off state by state, in a 
region whose population was so small, compared with 
that of the northern portions of the confederacy, the 
conquest, it was calculated, might be effected in detail, 
beginning at the extremities, rather than striking at the 
centre, to which all the defensive energies of the con- 
tinent were necessarily directed. The south never, at 
any time, possessed such an army as was maintained, 
during the whole war, in the neighborhood of the chief 
cities of the north. 

The Americans were inactive from other causes. 
The succors of France, a fleet and army under De 
Tierny, arrived early in July. This fleet was superior 
to that of the British, and, with the troops which it 
brought, ought to have secured to the allies equal ascen- 
dency by land and sea. But this superiority was soon 
9 



98 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

more than counterbalanced by the arrival of reinforce- 
ments to the British, under Admiral Graves ; and, though 
the American militia, encouraged by the strong force 
brought by their allies, had taken the field with new 
activity and in considerable numbers, yet, this show of 
spirit was rendered abortive by the position of the 
French, who were blockaded, by a superior fleet, in the 
harbor of Newport. Clinton prepared to make a dem- 
onstration on Newport ; while Washington, equally on 
the alert, stood ready to make a corresponding attempt 
upon New York. By the greatest efforts, the means of 
transportation were procured, and preparations made 
for a joint attack by land and water on that city. But 
Clinton was too vigilant to lose sight of this important 
position. Discovering his enemy's game, he regained 
his fortresses by a prompt retrograde movement, which 
put his stronghold once more in a state of security. 

With the abandonment of the enterprise against New 
York, Washington proceeded to Hartford, there to meet 
and consult with the French commander in regard to 
future operations. He left the army in charge of Greene. 
This vigilant general was soon led to suspect that the 
British commander was meditating a secret movement 
of great importance. He had established a regular 
communication with New York, and obtained consider- 
able intelligence through the medium of his spies ; but 
these, though satisfied that an important expedition was 
designed by the enemy, were entirely at fault when it 
became necessary to define its objects. Conjecture was 
nearly equally divided between Rhode Island and Vir- 
ginia. The casual language of the enemy, and his open 
demonstrations, looked equally to these points. Greene 
was not to be deceived. He writes to Washington that 
he suspects " some secret expedition in contemplation ; 
the success of ivhlch depends altogether uj)on its being 



TREASON OF ARNOLD. 99 

hcpt secret^ This letter was written on tlie 21st of 
September: the whole mystery was developed on the 
23d, when Andre was taken prisoner, and the treachery 
of Benedict Arnold discovered. The well-known object 
of Arnold's negotiation, was the delivery of West Point 
to the British. The importance of this place to the 
interests, if not the cause, of American independence, 
needs no recital. The moment chosen was particularly 
auspicious for the British, inasmuch as the arrival of 
Rodney, with his fleet, not only gave them an abundance 
of water transportation, but enabled Clinton to engage 
in a distant enterprise, and yet leave New York in a 
state of security against the enterprise of the Americans. 

Greene's first knowledge of the defection of Arnold 
was derived from a letter of Hamilton, received on the 
25th. It explained all that was mysterious in the pro- 
ceedings of the British. Without delay, he prepared 
to march the army to the defence of West Point. On 
the morning of the 26th, his whole force had been put 
under marching orders, and, with the second division, in 
obedience to instructions from Washington, he pushed 
forward with this command, as far as King's ferry, the 
remainder of the army being held in readiness to move 
at any moment. 

It does not belong to us to narrate the details of 
Arnold's treachery; and the fate of Andre is too well 
known to require more than a passing notice. Sent 
under close guard to the American camp, Washington, 
in a private letter, gave Greene his instructions. A 
court of inquiry was convened, to determine upon the 
case of the prisoner, which was of many novel features. 
Greene presided at the deliberations of this court, which 
was composed of men of the highest worth and greatest 
dignity in the army. The opinion of the court was 
unanimous. Andre was convicted on his own confession. 



100 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

Painful as was the duty, it was inevitable, and he was 
sentenced to suffer as a spy. When the report of the 
sitting, drawn up by Laurens, was handed to Greene 
for his signature, his head was seen to bend low upon 
the paper, to hide the tear which he could not suppress. 
The death-warrant bore traces, also, of the regrets of 
those who, while forced to condemn, were not insensible 
to pity. The graces and accomplishments of the crim- 
inal, his manly bearing, his youth, his talents and imputed 
virtues, were considerations which, could they have been 
allowed before the court of justice, would have been 
sure to have made themselves felt, for his safety, through 
the awakened sympathies of his judges. But, the neces- 
sity of the example, the peril upon whose verge the 
country still stood, were conclusive arguments, which no 
erring weakness of the indulgent nature could, possibly, 
oppose. Andre pleaded that the manner of his death 
might be changed ; but this, too, a rigid justice did not 
dare to concede. To die as a soldier, was not the award 
of punishment. The true penalty lay in the infamy of 
the death. 

The proceedings of the court were duly communicated 
to the British commander. Clinton made every effort 
to save the victim from his doom. Commissioners 
were sent to the American posts, to argue the propriety 
of the judgment, and to arrest it if they could. But one 
of the commissioners, General Robertson, was permitted 
to land. He was met by Greene, on behalf of the com- 
mander-in-chief. The conference took place at King's 
ferry. We need not, here, renew the arguments urged 
on either side. Enough that no legal ingenuity could 
change the firm convictions of Greene ; and Andre suf- 
fered, according to his sentence, at the village of Tappan, 
where, at that time, the principal part of the American 
army lay encamped. 




Greene Signing the Report of Andre's Trial-Page 100. 



GREENE SUCCEEDS ARNOLD AT WEST POINT. 101 

Greene succeeded to the command of the post at 
West Point, made vacant by the treason of Arnold. He 
found it in the most shocking confusion ; neglected in 
most essential respects, and so prepared as to render 
it an easy prey to the operations of the enemy. To place 
it in instant readiness against any enterprise, was the 
pressing necessity, and the proofs remain of his equal 
wisdom, skill, and diligence. Nor was he suffered to 
concentrate his whole thoughts and energies upon this 
one subject. He was the 'premier of "Washington, held 
to a constant correspondence with the commander-in- 
chief, day by day, on subjects, always of importance, and 
frequently of the gravest and most complex character. 
This correspondence still exists in equal proof of his 
own various abilities and of the unlimited confidence 
which Washington reposed in his judgment and integrity. 
" Thus," says Johnson, " at one time he is called upon 
to make a full estimate of all the expenses for a year, 
attendant upon an establishment of thirty-two thousand 
men. At another, to sum up the whole annual expense 
incident to the war, to give a view of the sums paid by 
each state toward it, and their capacity to continue or 
increase their present contributions. At another, to 
consider the expediency of prosecuting the plans of 
the campaign hitherto pursued, or what changes shall 
be adopted upon the various exigencies which might 
occur," &c. These are all hard cipherings, and that 
Greene should still be required to go through with them, 
various and difficult as they were, and so little informed 
by rule as he had been, would go to prove the wonderful 
facility and resources of his mind, its ready adaptation to 
novel circumstances, the comprehensiveness of his vis- 
ion, and the correctness of his judgment — at least in the 
opinion of the commander-in-chief. 

But he was soon to change the scene of his opera- 
9* 



102 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

tions, while emerging into a larger scene of action. 
We have already indicated that change in the plan of 
invasion by which the British calculated to effect the di- 
vision or partial defeat, if not the entire coercion of the 
colonies. The front of war was now fully turning upon the 
south. Not that the enemy had hitherto withheld himself 
from this region. Thrice had South Carolina been inva- 
ded, twice to the disaster and defeat of the assailants. 
A third time, overwhelmed with a vastly superior force, 
at the moment of her greatest weakness and exhaustion, 
from previous struggles, her capital city had been over- 
come, and almost the entire regular army assigned to 
her assistance, with a large portion of her militia, had 
become prisoners-of-war. Georgia was completely pros- 
trate, bound hand and foot, and the invader had ad- 
vanced, with rapid strides, into the very heart of both 
these states. A small and inadequate force of continen- 
tals had been pressed forward with too much rapidity, 
and led headlong to complete overthrow, by the pre- 
sumptuous rashness of the conqueror of Burgoyne. The 
news of Gate's defeat at Camden, following close upon 
the failure of the French allies to effect anything in co- 
operation with Washington, and the hasty disbandment 
of the militia, necessarily produced, in the nation, after 
the first feeling of despondency and dismay, a conviction 
of the necessity of making new and superior exertions 
to arrest the progress which the enemy was making in 
the south. Troops must be raised to reinforce the re- 
mains of the southern army, and to restore the strength 
of its skeleton regiments. These troops were to be 
drawn wholly from the militia of the southern states, 
since the eastern soldiers were quite unwilling to be 
marched away from their own abodes. Contingents 
were called for from Maryland, Virginia, Delaware, and 
the Carolinas — from regions which had already felt the 



GATEs's DEFEAT AT CAMDEN. 103 

drain of such requisitions, and were weary of toils that 
seemed to promise no results. These were not promptly- 
forthcoming, and a no less serious difficulty lay in the 
choice of a general who should command them. The 
fields of the south had been particularly unfriendly to 
the fortunes of foreign generals. Lincoln was a prison- 
er-of-war, and Gates, late a favorite, was now a fugitive, 
under cloud and the censure of his country. The de- 
feat of Gates, in itself a great calamity, since it sacrificed 
an army, and encouraged wondrously the hopes of the 
loyalists, was yet not without its advantages, since it 
took from him that prestige which had been wretchedly 
employed by the enemies of Washington as a mean for 
his discredit and overthrow. Had the commander-in-chief 
been consulted, when Gates received the appointment 
of Congress, Greene would have been indicated to the 
command which wrecked the fortunes of the hero (so 
called, but eiToneously) of Saratoga. His defeat re- 
moved from the eyes of Congress those scales of preju- 
dice, which had hitherto made them blind to the deficien- 
cies in his character. Taught a severe lesson by the 
terrible disaster at Camden, they were now better pre- 
pared to defer their own to the judgment of Washington. 
He was at length authorized to name a successor of 
Gates to the command of the southern army. There 
was no doubt, when this resolve was taken, upon whom 
his choice would fall ; and his preference was confiiTned 
by the declared wishes of the delegates in Congress from 
the states most concerned in the event. Washington, 
promptly, and in an affectionate letter, communicated 
his desires to Greene. The latter, in modest reply, de- 
clared his compliance, and only entreated a short leave 
of absence to " set his house in order," before departing 
on a distant and perilous expedition. His request was 
reasonable. He had been more than five years in the 



104 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

service, and his private interests had been almost v^holly 
yielded uj), without inquiry or examination, to the control 
and care of others. But the duty was pressing. In his 
reply, Washington says : " I wish circumstances could 
be made to correspond to your wishes to spend a little 
time at home previous to your setting out ; but your 
-presence with your command^ as soon as possible, is indis- 
pensable.^^ So imperative was friendship, when coerced 
by duty ! But Greene's determination had already been 
made before he received this reply. He was no less 
quick to feel this indispensable necessity, than his friend 
to urge it. He writes, in answer : " J had given up the 
thought of going home before the receipt of your letter. 
My affairs required it ; but I was afraid it would take 
up too much time, considering the critical state of affairs 
to the southward.'^ A single day's further delay, and he 
set forward on the rugged path of duty, not waiting even 
for the embraces of his wife, momently expected, of 
children scarcely seen, while departing on a journey of 
nearly seven hundred miles. A low fever, which had 
hung upon him for some time, the fruit of exposure and 
anxiety, did not suffice to excuse a delay which his sense 
of duty could not justify in favor of his affections. 

Greene hastened, first, to headquarters, where his 
reception was such as declared, not only for the high 
favor in which he stood with Washington, but for his 
greatly-increased and lofty reputation with the army. 
The advice of Washington, solicitous at once for the 
reputation of Greene, and for the success of his enter- 
prise, was freely given, and all the assistance promised 
which he should be able to bestow. Here, too, ready 
and eager to serve under him, he found some of the 
noblest spirits of the army — Lafayette, Colonel Laurens, 
Major Lee, and others — who esteemed his personal 
worth, and did justice to his rare merits as a soldier. 



GREENE PROCEEDS TO THE SOUTH. 105 

Thus encouraged and assured, Grreene hastened to 
Philadelphia, where he received the instructions of 
Congress in relation to the campaign, and ascertained 
the full extent of the resources which were forthcoming 
for his entei-prise. These were few, and sufficiently 
unpromising. The army itself was a merely nominal 
existence — a shadow, rather than a substance. The 
fatal defeat of Gates had lost eveiything in the shape of 
stores, baggage, and artillery. Every article was to be 
supphed, and Congress had no money. A small sum, 
meant only to defray the expenses of his journey, was 
all that could be procured ; while an attempt to obtain a 
loan, and contributions of clothing, from the merchants 
of Philadelphia, resulted only in proving, that govern- 
ment was as singularly wanting in credit as in cash. 
But for the friendship and activity of Governor Read, 
Greene must have set forth upon his expedition for the 
south, almost wholly deficient in every requisite, either 
for himself or his army. Read supplied him with a 
certain quantity of arms and munitions from the state 
magazines, and assisted him in procuring the use of bag- 
gage-wagons for their transportation. The annexation 
of Delaware and Maryland to his military department, 
from which states, hereafter, he might draw contingents, 
and very liberal promises of future supplies, constituted 
the full measure of all the support which Congress, at 
this moment, could contribute to the maintenance of the 
conflict in the south. Leaving Colonel Febiger behind 
him in Philadelphia, for no other purpose than to jog the 
memories of great men in regard to these promises, and 
forward the supplies as they might accumulate, Greene 
set out, on the 23d of November, on his journey to the 
Carolinas. He was accompanied by Baron Steuben, 
and his two aids, Major Burnet and Colonel Morris. The 
journey was a tedious one, which could only have been 



106 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

relieved by the mode pursued by our travellers, of 
encountering its monotony by an unwearied regard to all 
subjects, v^hicli might be considered, in reference to the 
great objects which they had in view. As the route lay 
through the capitals of several states, a brief halt at the 
seat of each government, enabled the general of the 
southern army to investigate their resources, and to 
adopt measures with the leading persons of each for 
supplying and sustaining his army. To awaken them 
all to a sense of the approaching danger — to show that 
the cause was a common one, and was only to be ren- 
dered successful and secure by a common action — was a 
chief employment during this progress. To those more 
remote from the seat of danger, he showed how cer- 
tainly the fate of the immediate sufferer must be theirs, 
unless the assailed parties, struggling for life and death, 
should be seasonably succored; and insisted upon the 
policy, in its most selfish aspect, of saving, harmless, the 
sister state, if only that the wolf might be kept from 
other thresholds. To those on the verge of the danger, 
with their apprehensions already awakened for their own 
safety, he showed the necessity of firmness, promptitude, 
and a manly readiness to meet and brave the worst, as 
the true secret at once of security and patriotism. In 
order the more perfectly to keep the remoter states from 
indifference and forgetfulness to the claims of those 
over which the invader was already sweeping with resist- 
less strides, he left General Gist in Maryland, to act as 
the agent for the southern army in that state and Dela- 
ware. The Baron Steuben was left in military charge 
of Virginia. To these men, urging their duties upon 
them, his language is full of impressive earnestness. 
" Let your applications," he says, " be as pressing as our 
necessities are urgent." — " The greatest consequences 
depend upon your activity and zeal." To Steuben was 



GREENE'S PREPARATIONS. 107 

assigned the establishment of magazines and laborato- 
ries. The south, hitherto, had been almost wholly with- 
out them. The sites for these were chosen by Greene, 
whose eyes, as he approached the field of operations, 
were addressed to all that was important to his success. 
This choice of location was one of no small difficulty. 
In Maryland, they would have been too remote from the 
scene of action ; in North Carolina, much too near. 
Virginia was the state in which it was necessary to 
establish them. The point of Fort, at the confluence 
of Revanna and Fluvanna, was decided upon for the 
principal laboratory; while the chief depot of stores and 
arms was allotted to Prince Edward courthouse. To keep 
these regularly supplied with powder from the manufac- 
tories, and lead from the mines of Fincastle, was one of 
the special duties confided to Steuben. Grreene vested 
him, besides, with the military command in Virginia, and 
with the farther task of organizing, disciplining, and 
expediting, the march of the recruits, from time to time, 
intended for the southern army. Jefferson was, at this 
time, the governor of Virginia. He was appealed to, 
and freely promised, to use all his energies in promoting 
the preparations of the state in regard to the common 
danger. Virginia had, at this period, but few regular 
troops in the field. A considerable body of her militia, 
with all the draughts and recruits collected to reinforce the 
southern army, were employed, at this very juncture, un- 
der the command of Generals Muhlenberg and Weedon, 
in watching the movements of General Leslie, which 
threatened her own safety. Her want of means and 
credit was quite as great as that of Congress ; and her 
movements were embai-rassed at once by the presence 
of danger, and the absence of adequate resources for 
defence. The southern army had but little to hope 
from this quarter. The resources of North Carolina, 



108 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

never ample, were perhaps still less available, at this 
moment, than those of Virginia. Men there were, per- 
haps, in sufficient numbers ; but they lacked concentra- 
tion, habits of drill and discipline, equipments of all 
kinds, munitions of war, and military stores. There 
was no money in the state, and the granaries of the 
country were empty. The fall of Charleston, and the 
defeat of Gates at Camden, had led to an unwise enrol- 
ment of vast bodies of militia, by which the country had 
been ravaged, and in the support of which, such vast 
quantities of paper money had been issued, as totally to 
destroy its own currency. 

But, with an eye to all things, and every thought 
addressed to the emergency, devising ways and means, 
and undespairing in the worst discouragements, Greene 
continued his way through these states, toward the field 
of more active operations. With all his delays, his 
progress was a rapid one, and soon brought him to the 
encampment of the army at Charlotte, North Carolina, 
which he reached on the 2d of December. Here, with 
a noble delicacy, which keenly appreciated the exquisite 
suffering of a proud and ambitious mind, sinking beneath 
unexpected, though perhaps not undeserved disaster, he 
relieved Gates of the command. He confirmed, for the 
day, the standing orders of his predecessor, whose be- 
havior was marked by a dignified resignation, and a 
carriage which was, at once, equally removed from the 
baseness of despondency, and the insolence of a spirit 
ready to brave public opinion, as it had, unhappily, 
essayed to brave its fortune. It was also among the 
delicate duties of Greene, while relieving Gates from the 
command, to institute a court of inquiry into the conduct 
by which the battle of Camden had been lost. It was 
grateful to Greene that he could escape from the prose- 
cution of this painful investigation. The service was 



Greene's behavior to gates. 109 

not in a condition to allow, nor the army to make it. 
The order of Washington, requiring that the " officers 
of the court should consist of such general and field 
officers, of the continental troops, as were not present at 
the battle of Camden ; or, being present, are not wanted 
as witnesses ; or are persons to whom General Grates 
has no objection," involved conditions which could not 
be complied with. There were not, in fact, three gen- 
eral officers left in the army who could sit upon the 
court, unless withdrawn from other places where their 
presence was indispensable. Under these circumstances, 
Greene gladly made such representations to Congress 
as obtained a revision of their orders, by which he was 
wholly relieved from a duty from which all his sensibili- 
ties shrunk. He regarded Gates's case with tenderness ; 
too indulgently, perhaps — but as one of misfortune, 
rather than misconduct ; and his behavior to the unfor- 
tunate man — for ever fallen, by this his own catastrophe, 
from the very heights of power — while it was "edifying 
to the army," touched the soul of the sufferer himself, 
and converted him, from a former enemy, into an attached 
and grateful friend. 
10 



110 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE* 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Glimpses of the past Progress of the War in the South. — Coiitlition of the 
Country and of the Army when Greene takes Conmiand. — His Difficul- 
ties — Resources — Policy. — Moves from Charlotte to Pee Dee. — Mari- 
on's Movements. — Cornwallis. — Morgan. — Tarleton pursues Morgan. — 
Is defeated at the Covs^pens. 

It was on the fourth of December, 1780, that Greene 
entered upon the duties of his new and arduous com- 
mand. It was one of singular difficulty and respon- 
sibility, and the means provided for his use and disposal 
were strangely inadequate to the necessities before him. 
The condition of South Carolina was one of great desti- 
tution, and of a prostration apparently complete. Her 
resources seemed to be entirely exhausted, and her strong 
places were wholly within the grasp of the invader. A 
backward glance at her fortunes, during the war, up to 
the moment when Greene was appointed to the com- 
mand of the southern army, would seem, in some de- 
gree, to be necessary to a proper comprehension of the 
duties which were required at his hands, and of the dif- 
ficulties which lay in the way of their successful execution. 
South Carolina was one of those states which are at once 
opulent and feeble. She enjoyed a large commerce, but 
it was almost entirely in the hands of Europeans who 
were secretly hostile to her aims at independence. Those 
aims were boldly urged by her native population, con- 
sisting of the high spirited gentry of the lower country. 
Her causes of quarrel with the mother-country were of 
a very different nature with those that operated upon 



CAUSES OF THE REVOLUTION IN CAROLINA. Ill 

the jDeople of New England. They did not arise from 
feehngs of jealousy between the parties in consequence 
of threatened rivalry of interests. In the south the peo- 
ple engaged in no manufactures, and held no shipping. 
They were planters, who found a ready market in Old 
England for all their produce. But they felt keenly the de- 
nial to themselves of those privileges of self-government 
which the possession of many superior intellects, and of 
a highly-educated state of society among the natives, nat- 
urally told them should be their own. They resented 
the usurpation, not only as a denial of right, but as an 
indignity, which continually imposed upon them, in pla- 
ces of authority, the foreigner in whom they did not find 
a superior, and who felt no sympathy with the soil. This 
prompted them readily to seize upon the common pre- 
texts of the sister-colonies, and to sympathize with the 
movement in New England, not because of any affinities 
between the separate people, but as it afforded an occa- 
sion for the assertion of their rights. But their motives 
were not of sufficient influence with the great body of 
the people of Carolina, to make the cause a common one 
throughout the state. The people were not sufficiently 
homogeneous for the attainment of this important object. 
Large portions of the interior country had been only 
newly settled, and from European nations. The Ger- 
mans, having large settlements to themselves, scarcely 
speaking the language of the natives, were not easily 
persuaded to forego for the sway of a people whom they 
did not know, the paternal government of a prince, him- 
self of German family. The Scotch, forming colonies 
throughout the interior, preserved all their clannish pro- 
pensities, and their loyalty has always been the distin- 
guishing feature of the national character. The quaker 
and Moravian settlements, which were also numerous, 
were opposed to war, on any pretences ; and thus it was 



112 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. 

that In the very heart of the country there dwelt a pow- 
erful community ready, at any opportunity, to thwart, by 
indifference or active hostility, the efforts of the native 
population, at the great object of national deliverance. 
Not a few of the natives, also, were unprepared to strike 
for independence; either doubtful of a policy which 
would, perhaps, elevate the power of the northern colo- 
nies (of which they were jealous) at their expense, or, 
doubtful if the country was yet ripe for the great experi- 
ment of making its further progress alone. For a time, 
however, these conflicting and opposing interests were 
kept in abeyance, silenced if not subdued, by the bold 
and energetic measures which the patriotic party pur- 
sued, and the good fortune which attended their initial 
efforts in arms. Successful, in singular degree, in beat- 
ing off a British fleet and army at the opening of the 
war, and scourging into quiet and obedience the insur- 
gents who first made a demonstration in the interior, in 
correspondence with the movements of the enemy upon 
the seaboard, it was eiToneously supposed that there 
would be little difficulty a second time from this doubt- 
ful quarter. The numbers of the faithful were greatly 
overrated, in the spirit and vigor which they had shown ; 
the numbers of the disaffected as greatly underrated, in 
the silence which they kept, and the stealthy policy which 
held their true feelings secret. A second attempt at 
the invasion of South Carolina, after the partial fall of 
Charleston, led the patriots to suspect, in some degree, 
their own weakness ; but as this invasion was again baf- 
fled and defeated, it was reserved for a subsequent day 
of danger, to reveal the full extent of the evil from the 
sources indicated. 

The fall of Georgia afforded the British general a 
point (Vajyjmi wlience he could more easily operate 
upon the sister-colony. Florida, always in his posses- 



SIEGE OF CHARLESTON. 113 

slon, was another mean of annoyance to South Carolina. 
Here harbored all the fugitives who had been driven 
forth in consequence of their uncompromising hostility 
to the popular movement. A fruitless but expensive at- 
tempt to invade Florida — an attempt not more profitable 
in its results, to recover Georgia — contributed greatly 
to diminish the resources of Carolina in the personnel 
and tnateriel of war. The bloody conflict in the attempt- 
ed storm of Savannah, had fallen heavily on the Carolina 
troops, had diminished her regiments, had burdened her 
with an excessive debt, and had destroyed the value of 
her currency. The regular regiment of Georgia had 
been destroyed, or was in captivity, and her own militia 
had suffered severely, and been scattered or taken, in 
the latter state ; surprised in the charge of incompetent 
officers, under the more skilful operations of the invader. 
Thus circumstanced, she was but feebly prepared to re- 
sist the third and successful attempt of the British gen- 
eral-in-chief to obtain firm foothold in her soil. 

Charleston, besieged by a vastly superior force of the 
enemy, under Sir Henry Clinton himself, succumbed, after 
a siege of nearly two months. The defence had been 
as well conducted and maintained as was possible by an 
inadequate body of ti'oops, threatened at once by pesti- 
lence and famine, and worn out by unremitting duties in 
the field. By this surrender, five thousand soldiers of the 
southern army were lost, temporarily, to the pressing 
wants of the country. Nor was this the only loss. It 
involved others quite as heavy and important. While 
the leaguer of the city had beerw continued, detached bod- 
ies of the southern mifitia had still kept the field. This 
measure had for its object the maintenance of free com- 
munication between the seaboard and the interior. It 
was unfortunate that this division of the streno;-th of the 
state left neither that portion assigned to the garrison, nor 
10* 



114 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

that which kept the field, in sufficient strength for safety. 
With the fall of the city, and even before thajt event, the 
British began to cut off, in detail, the scattered bodies 
of militia — effecting a series of surprises, which, where 
the disparity of military discipline and experience was 
so great as between these parties, was not, perhaps, of 
difficult achievement. The massacre usually followed 
the surprise ; and, with their capital city overthrown, 
their regular army made captive, their allies dispersed, 
their own militia cut up in scattered squadrons, without 
being permitted to unite — with the loyalists rising eve- 
rywhere around them, encouraged by the presence of a 
powerful ally, and eager now, and active in due degree 
with the apathy and caution which they had hitherto 
been compelled to show — it was, perhaps, not surprising 
that the whigs of Carolina yielded for a time to fortune, 
and lay, perdu, in waiting for a better moment. But 
they did not wait long, or without a hope. The ap- 
proach of the continental army under Gates, however 
feeble, once more provoked their activity and stimulated 
their enterprise. Already, however, had their own par- 
tisan leaders — since grown famous — taken the field. 
Sumter, Marion, Pickens, and others, had already com- 
menced that brilliant career which showed the soldiers 
of the south to be particularly fitted for guerilla warfare ; 
and these, with the arrival of Gates, were prepared to 
co-operate with him, by demonstrations happily directed 
to divert the attention of the enemy, and to distract his 
purposes. The very hour of Gates's defeat was distin- 
guished by a brilliant affair of Sumter, in which, but 
for the absence of that caution which is taught alone by 
a veteran experience in war, his success would have 
been complete, and would have made partial amends for 
the catastrophe at Camden. Even after that catastrophe 
had taken place, it was for Marion to dart out suddenly 



WAR IN CAROLINA. 115 

from his swamps, in the very moment of the British tri- 
umph, and to rescue from their clutches a large body of 
their prisoners. These were proofs that the spirit and 
enterprise of Carolina were unsubdued by her misfor- 
tunes, whatever might be her deficiencies of physical 
strength. But her contest lay not entirely with the inva- 
der. Had this been the case, she had pi'obably been 
quite equal to her own defence, without needing succor 
from her sisters. Unhappily, the causes already men- 
tioned, raised an army within her own limits, which was 
hostile to her independence. Rising in their several dis- 
tricts, the loyalists took ample vengeance for their pre- 
vious quiet and forbearance. A civil war raged in the 
country, of so desperate a nature, as to lead Greene, 
when describing it, to say that the people pursued each 
other like wild beasts rather than like men. Such is 
usually the character of civil war. The whole state was 
thus rendered the arena for unrelenting" conflict : and, 
preying upon each other with a sleejjless ferocity, there 
were but few hands to oppose to those of the national 
invader. The British looked on grimly, glad of a strug- 
gle which relieved them from many of the toils of war ; 
and were content to leave to their auxiliaries, the loyal- 
ists, the work of massacre, while they quietly possessed 
themselves of its fruits. It was not the least of the mer- 
its of the Carolina partisan generals, that they could de- 
tach from petty broils, and neighborhood conflict, any 
body of citizens, and rally them, with single aim, for the 
great busines of national deliverance. That they should 
still keep alive the spirit of patriotism, in the midst of 
civil war, with a powerful enemy standing by to sustain 
the domestic factions by which the movement was op- 
posed, was in itself conclusive that the state might be 
rescued from foreign clutches, with only a respectable 
force of regulars, upon which to fall back and rally, and 



116 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

to which to look for support and succor against any over- 
whelming efforts of the foe. To have continued the con- 
flict, by the native militia alone, so long under the walled 
places of the British, and with their troops everywhere 
in the field, was to afford the most encouraging hopes 
that, in the end, the latter must be driven from their con- 
quests. For such a warfare, perhaps, no general was 
better endowed by nature, or prepared by training, than 
Greene. Patient, vigilant, collected — never so eager 
for success, as to overlook the necessary means for ob- 
taining it — never so sanguine of victory as to forget the 
caprices of fortune, and the uncertain moods which usu- 
ally mark an untrained soldier — circumspect and cau- 
tious, in the last degree — he was, perhaps, the best cap- 
tain in the world to restrain and regulate the raw troops 
whom he had to manage — to curb their impetuosity, 
methodize their valor, and make them habitually provide 
against surprise. 

Greene did not close his eyes against the difficulties 
which now rose up in his path at every moment. He 
found himself, on taking command of the army, sustained 
by few encouragements. The army itself was a skel- 
eton — the mere wreck of an army — few in numbers, 
without clothing, arms, or ammunition. It counted but 
nine hundred and seventy continentals, and one thousand 
and thirteen militia. This was the force which he 
found awaiting him at Charlotte. There was a smaller 
force, but better provided, serving as an independent 
command under Morgan, which had been detached by 
Gates, and was now actually operating in South Caro- 
lina, and in the neighborhood of the British garrison 
at Camden. This force consisted of four companies, 
which had been drafted from the regiments to serve as 
light infantry; a body of seventy cavalry, under Colonel 
Washington; and a small corps of sixty rifles, under 



RELATIVE STRENGTH OF THE ARMIES. 117 

Major Rose. We shall have occasion to speak of this 
command hereafter. With his army weak and ill pro- 
vided, Greene found himself among friends who were 
too much abashed by ill fortune and inferior means, to 
be confident themselves in hope, or to encourage him to 
boldness. His enemies, on the other hand, warmed with 
continued victories, were flushed with exultation, and 
swarming, in the confidence of numbers, on every side. 
When he looked toward South Carolina, the region 
which he was to penetrate, he found it everywhere over- 
awed by British garrisons. Its strong points were every- 
where seized upon and fortified. Lord Cornwallis had 
planted himself, with the main body of his army, at 
Winnsborough. This post enabled him to com23lete his 
chain of fortified places, " from Georgetown to Augusta, 
in a circle, the centre of which would have been about 
Beaufort, in South Carolina, equidistant from Charles- 
ton and Savannah. These posts consisted of George- 
town, Camden, Winnsborough, Ninety-Six, and Augusta. 
Within this circle was an interior chain, at the distance 
of about half the radius, consisting of Fort Watson on 
the road to Camden, Motte's house and Granby on the 
Congaree. Dorchester and Orangeburg, on the road both 
to Ninety-Six and Granby, were fortified as posts of 
rest and deposite on the line of communication ; as was 
Monk's Corner, or Biggin church, and some other small 
posts on that to Camden." These posts were all judi- 
ciously chosen, at once for procuring supplies, maintain- 
ing communications, and overawing the country. The 
British army was divided among these several places, on 
the assumption by Greene of the charge of the debris of 
the southern army. They consisted of something more 
than five thousand men, and employed themselves, at all 
these posts, in recruiting from the tory settlements — a 
business in which they were uncommonly successful. 



118 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

Their strength underwent a large increase on the arrival 
of Grreene, being reinforced by a force of nearly three 
thousand men, under General Leslie, who was, in conse- 
quence, diverted from Virginia to Charleston ; thus pre- 
senting an overwhelming preponderance of force against 
the American general, which it was difficult to meet. 

But Greene's mind — calm, equable, well-trained, and 
executive — quickly rose to the exigency before it. To 
ascertain the wants of his men, and to cast about for the 
sources of supply, were joint operations of the same 
thought. Clothing, in particular, was the great necessity. 
The nakedness of the soldiers was the first impressive 
fact that met his eyes. Many of them could not be seen 
on parade, and were actually ordered back to their 
homes on this account. Of those who did appear, the 
ludicrous exhibition of shreds and patches, odds and 
ends, of uniforms and old clothes, made a vai'iety, to 
which no display of a mock military could, possibly, do 
justice. The munitions of war were equally wanting, 
and the magazines were as bare as the soldiers. Nor 
were there means in the military chest to procure sup- 
plies, even if they had been within reach of purchase ; 
and it was with great difficulty, and only by the most 
excellent management, that provisions, from day to day, 
were procured for the support of the army. The quar- 
termaster's department was in quite as bad condition. 
Greene's experience in this department enabled him, 
readily, to appreciate his deficiencies, though it afforded 
him some advantages, perhaps, in suggesting the means 
for meeting them. But here, again, the same painful 
conflict was to be carried on for months, and possibly 
for years, to encounter necessities without resources, 
and furnish material without the means ; to live by shifts 
and expedients, striving day by day, with an eternal 
anxiety, doubtful what the day will bring forth, and igno- 



OFFICERS OF THE SOUTHERN ARMY. 119 

rant of the sources which shall provide for the exigencies 
of the morrow. Without a market, or money with 
which to enter it — without the present means for trans- 
porting supplies — and with an army constantly craving, 
and as constantly required to sei-ve in spite of craving, 
tlie genius of the best general in the world might have 
succumbed beneath his anxieties, unless supported by 
a generous faith, that hopes everything in a right cause, 
and from a steady compliance with the requisitions of 
country and duty. 

It was fortunate for Greene that he was consoled and 
strengthened against these tiials and anxieties, by the 
support and society of some of the most select and 
noble spirits in the army. His officers were the picked 
men of the country — brave, enterprising, full of expe- 
dients, resolute, generous, and ardent in their sympathies. 
Morgan, famous as a partisan, distinguished at Quebec 
and Saratoga; Otho Williams, who had been chiefly 
instrumental in saving the wreck of G-ates's army; Lee 
and Washington, renowned for the spirit and enterprise 
which marked their respective characters and commands; 
Kosciusko, a chief of European fame, and one of the 
best engineers in the service. These, in their several 
departments, were scarcely to be equalled ; and, with 
Carrington in the quartermaster's, and Davies in the 
commissariat department, it may be reasonably sup- 
posed that everything which might be done by mortal 
ability, under like circumstances, must be within the 
j)rovince of his performance. When, to these aids and 
allies, we add the names of such partisan officers, among 
the militia, as have never been surpassed — Marion, 
Sumter, Pickens, Henderson, and others — we may natu- 
rally look for achievements, of as much enterprise and 
daring as belong to the fortunes of any fighting araiy 
among any people. 



120 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

The region of country in which he was to act, required 
the very best, and the most various, military capacity. 
Unhke the north, it was a region in which the vicissitudes 
were equally sudden and extreme. In the north, the 
fields of controversy were few ; the chief points of 
progress obvious ; the means of communication ready ; 
the game always tolerably apparent to the least skilful 
strategist. There, the population was dense, and intel- 
ligence was transmitted with great rapidity. For the 
same reason, the means of sustenance were more readily 
furnished, and particularly where the military chest was 
more amply supplied with the means of payment, than 
was the case when the war was transferred to the south. 
In most respects, the theatre of action in the latter region 
was totally unlike that of the north. Here, the popula- 
tion was sparsely settled ; the country, in large tracts, 
desolate and unproductive ; the roads few ; the forests 
unbroken ; the swamps impassable ; the rivers liable to 
frequent overflow; foraging remote and difficult ; intel- 
ligence slow to arrive; the people nearly equally divided 
in opinion — implacable and fierce in their resentments — 
always restless, and always suspicious accordingly; and 
the circumstances, taken together, of such a sort, as to 
leave an army at no moment perfectly secure from a 
capital disaster. 

It was the peculiar faculty of Greene, to study care- 
fully the scene of action, and to adopt his policy to its 
conditions. His explorations of the country were singu- 
larly searching and thorough. Under his requisitions, 
the Dan was surveyed by Carrington, the Yadkin by 
General Stevens, and the Catawba by Kosciusko ; and 
these surveys, which he thus commanded, are supposed 
to be the first which ever revealed, to any extent, the 
characteristics of the several rivers. They proved, in 
the sequel, of immense importance to the progress of his 



DISCIPLINE OF THE ARMY. 121 

arras. Magazines were established at the head of the 
Catawba, by which he brought the means of sub- 
sistence more immediately within the line which he 
had fixed upon as the base of his operations. He 
renewed his entreaties to the authorities of the several 
states within his province, urging the necessity of imme- 
diate supplies, and the most energetic exertions, for the 
future. He counselled, in the embodiment of the militia, 
that resort should be had to the draught, in preference to 
any other form of proceeding ; and, in his letters on this 
subject and others, employs a tone, and throws out sug- 
gestions, which have for their object something beyond the 
matters which they immediately discuss. In plain terms, 
he seeks to prepare the several governments, which he 
addresses, for that more decisive exercise of authority 
which he, himself, was resolved to adopt in the conduct 
of the war. It belonged to the same policy that he 
should seasonably begin to enforce that discipline among 
his troops, which, though essential to their efficiency, 
had yet been, hitherto, disregarded. It had been the 
custom of the troops to come and go, almost at pleasure ; 
to retire to their homes without leave, and to stay with- 
out limit. For this offence he assigned the penalty of 
death, and rigidly enforced it. The first offender, after 
the practice had been forbidden, was made a summary 
example, being shot at the head of the army, which was 
drawn out to witness the painful spectacle. It was a 
terrible lesson, but one rendered necessary by a due 
regard to discipline. 

From his camp at Charlotte, Greene prepared to draw 
nigher to the scene of more active operations. The duty 
of selecting a camp of watch and repose ; where, without 
slumbering, the army could yet be tolerably secure ; and 
where, without engaging in conflict, they could yet be 
kept constantly reminded of the necessity of preparing 
11 



122 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. 

for it; — was confided to Kosciusko. The spot was cho- 
sen at the junction of Hick's creek with the Great Pee 
Dee, and here the army arrived on the 26th of December. 
On the same day that the araiy was put under marching 
orders for this point, the detachment under Morgan was 
ordered to cross the Catawba, and approach the position 
of Lord Cornwallis at Winnsborough. Speaking of 
his new camp, the object of his movement, and the ad- 
vantages derived from it, we gather the following sum- 
mary from Greene himself: " I am here in my camp of 
repose, improving the discipline and spirits of my men, 
and the opportunity for looking about me. I am well 
satisfied with this movement, for it has answered thus 
far all the purposes for which I intended it. It makes 
the most of my inferior force, for it compels my. adversary 
to divide his, and holds him in doubt as to his own line of 
conduct. He can not leave Morgan behind him to come 
at me, or his posts of Ninety-Six and Augusta would be 
exposed. And he can not chase Morgan far, or prose- 
cute his views upon Virginia while I am here with the 
whole country open before me. I am as near to Charles- 
ton as he is, and as near to Hillsborough as I was at Char- 
lotte ; so that I am in no danger of being cut off" from my 
reinforcements, while an uncertainty as to my future de- 
signs has made it necessary to leave a large detachment 
of the enemy's late reinforcements in Charleston, and 
move the rest up on this side the Wateree. But, although 
there is nothing to obstruct my march to Charleston, I 
am far from having such a design in contemplation, in 
the present relative positions and strength of the two ar- 
mies. It would be putting it in the power of my enemy 
to compel me to fight him. At present my operations 
must be in the country where the rivers are fordable, and 
to guard against the chance of not being able to choose 
my ground. . . . Below the falls [of Pee Dee], all through 



CONDITION OF THE COUNTRY. 123 

this country, from the Allegany to the seacoast, and from 
the Chesapeake to Georgia, the country is champaign, 
and presenting no passes that can be held by an inferior 
force. The rivers are deep, and their banks covered with 
impassable swamps, across which, at long intervals, roads 
have been constructed, which afford the only avenues of 
retreat. I can not venture to get entangled among the 
difficulties they present, until I can turn upon my enemy 
and fight him when I please." 

Thus, of the objects and advantages of his position. 
Hear him now, in the same breath, on the subject of his 
condition and resources : " I find the difficulties of sub- 
sisting an army far beyond all anticipation. Even 
here, where the inliabitants are generally well disposed, 
they will not gather in their crops from the field, because 
depositing their grain in their barns exposes it to be 
seized by their friends or burnt by their enemies. It is 
hard to stand so much in need of friends, and be com- 
pelled to subsist ourselves by means so well calculated 
to convert friends into enemies. But we have not a shil- 
ling of money, and must collect subsistence by force, or 
disband. I have had an opportunity of learning the force 
of the loyalists in these states, and the parts of the coun- 
try in which they reside, and their numbers and zeal pre- 
sent a formidable obstacle to our future measures. On 
the other hand, the whig population has been greatly re- 
duced by the numbers that have fled from the distress 
that friends and foes have heaped on them. The enemy 
are now recruiting in all parts of this state, and the com- 
mand of gold, aided by the public distress and loyal feel- 
ing, has been too successful in promoting the project of 
making one conquest the stepping-stone to another. At 
present they are in possession of all the fertile and popu- 
lous parts of South Carolina, and until circumstances 
will admit of my penetrating into the heart of the coun- 



124 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. 

try, to meet and fight him, we shall have to operate in a 
country that has been exhausted and depopulated by the 
swarms of mounted militia that have been impoverishing 
rather than defending it. Yet I should feel no appre- 
hensions for the event, had I a prospect of being sup- 
ported by a permanent force. But North Carolina has 
not a man on foot, and Virginia only a few raw and na- 
ked troops, and those enlisted for a short time. The fine 
troops of Maryland and Delaware, enlisted for the war, 
are now reduced, comparatively, to a handful, and Gen- 
eral Gist gives me no hope of an early reinforcement 
from that quarter. North Carolina seems disposed to 
assist us, but her councils are so distracted that I can 
not hope much from her efforts. The whigs will not 
serve unless the tories are compelled, and the tories are 
too strong to be driven, or, if forced to take the field, will 
run away, desert, or betray us. Virginia, without money 
and without credit, I fear can do little more ; and in both 
states, militia substitutes are too much in demand to leave 
materials for enlisting an army, except for very limited 
periods." 

These extracts will afford a sufficient idea of the kind 
and extent of the embarrassments which beset the com- 
mander of the southern army at his camp of rej30se. 
Here, however, he was now joined by the long-expected 
legion of Colonel Lee, from Virginia, a fine body, equally 
made up of horse and foot, admirably equipped, of three 
hundred men. At the same time, and from the same 
quarter, came Colonel Greene, with a body of four hun- 
dred recruits. A thousand more recruits had been raised 
in Virginia, but they could not be sent into the field, from 
very nakedness. Those who were sent, though march- 
ing in the depth of winter, were clad only in summer 
garments of the meanest description, and chiefly made 
of linen. 



MORGAN'S OPERATIONS. 125 

The arrival of Lee at the camp on the Pee Dee, ena- 
bled Greene to attempt an expedition which he had con- 
templated before. This was an enterprise against 
Georgetown, one of a series in which the enemy should 
be struck at in detail, in which Lee should operate in 
conjunction with Mai'ion. The famous partisan had been 
busy all the while, in his particular way and province. 
Morgan and Marion were in motion about the same time. 
The former, not strong enough to attempt the post at 
Winnsborough, contented himself with keeping Lord 
Cornwallis anxious about its safety, vv'hile achieving some 
small surprises against the tories in the neighborhood of 
Ninety-Six. Marion, having Lee with him, succeeded 
measurably in the attempt on Georgetown. The place 
was surprised, but, from a failure of proper concert be- 
tween the assailing parties, and the want of artillery, it 
was not in their power to retain it, or to gather the best 
results from the advantages which had been won. 

The attempt upon this post, to be followed up by oth- 
ers, had for its object to divert the attention of the enemy 
from Morgan to the danger of his garrisons in the low 
country. The surprise of Georgetown was not, accord- 
ingly, a simple coup de main, but a first step in the pros- 
ecution of a great plan which should fetter the enterprise 
of the British general, distract his regards, and prevent 
him from that contemplated march upon Virginia, from 
Carolina, which now constituted the leading policy with 
Cornwallis. To detain him in North Carolina, until an 
army of sufficient strength and discipline could be raised 
to encounter him, was the design and desire of Greene. 
The measures pursued for this purpose, soon began to 
disturb the repose of Cornwallis, and to compel his at- 
tention to the course of Morgan. 

The latter, meanwhile, had taken post on the banks of 
the Pacolet, where he was joined by a considerable body 
11* 



126 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

of the militia of tlie Caroliiias. He had scarcely made 
his appearance in the neighborhood before he had an op- 
portunity of striking at a sti-ong body of loyalists who 
had advanced from the Savannah to the Fair Forest. He 
sent Colonel Washington, with his cavalry, and a couple 
of hundred mounted militia under Colonel M'Call, who, 
by rapid riding, came upon them in the neighborhood of 
Ninety-Six, and struck at them with such emphasis as to 
kill two thirds of their number. The surprise was com- 
plete, and the punishment sufficiently sanguinary. Avail- 
ing himself of the fact that his appearance was totally 
unexpected in a neighborhood which swarmed with en- 
emies, and was covered by a strong British post, he suc- 
ceeded in the attem^Dt to surprise the stockade fort of 
GJ-eneral Cunningham, and to scatter the garrison. These 
enterprises, almost at his threshold, disquieted Cornwal- 
lis, whose light troops and cavalry, under Tarleton, were 
then unprofitably urging the pursuit of Sumter, after the 
battle-field of Blackstocks. Cornwallis felt the evil moral 
influences of such audacity on the part of the Americans, 
to say nothing of the direct injury to the service, in the 
slaughter of auxiliaries and the cutting off of his sup- 
plies. Tarleton, accordingly, received his orders to 
" j)ush Morgan to the utmost." To enable him to do so, 
to effectual purpose, Cornwallis divided his forces with 
him, intending, while Tarleton either destroyed Morgan, 
or drove him out of the state, which he thought most 
likely, to move forward rapidly himself, and, throwing 
himself across the path of the American general, cut him 
off from his place of retreat, and compel him to surren- 
der. Leslie, meanwhile, with another body of troops, 
was to march up the east side of the Catawba, and inter- 
pose to prevent Greene from doing anything for the sup- 
port of his brigades. 

But, events are not within human calculation. They 



TARLETON PURSUES MORGAN. 127 

were destined to disappoint the plans of the English 
general. Tarleton obeyed the commands of his superior 
with due diligence ; and, with his usual celerity, set forth 
in pursuit of Morgan. He had with him, in this pursuit, 
about eleven hundred men, five hundred of whom con- 
stituted that formidable legion which had hitherto trav- 
ersed the country with almost unvarying success. His 
field-j)ieces were served by a detachment of the royal 
artillery. Morgan's force did not quite equal this in 
numbers, consisting, in all, of nine hundred and seventy 
men, of whom six hundred were militia. But these 
militia were now somewhat experienced, and they were 
under leaders, such as Pickens and M'Call, in whom 
they had the utmost confidence, and who knew exactly 
how to manage them. Still, the superiority in artillery 
and cavalry, was too greatly with Tarleton to render it 
prudent to await his encounter ; and, very loath to do 
BO, Morgan retired at his approach. The pursuit was 
commenced on the 12th of January, 1781. Morgan 
might have escaped his pursuer ; but he really had no 
desire to do so — was chock full of fight, and only desired 
to find for his mood a proper field and fitting opportunity. 
In this temper of mind, as may be supposed, it was not 
difiicult for Tarleton — with whom, hitherto, in the plen- 
itude of good fortune, it had been only to see to con- 
quer — "to bring him to the scratch." The American 
brigadier awaited his enemy on the banks of the 
Thicketty. 

Believing that Morgan was only solicitous to escape, 
and resolved upon the honors of a coujp de 77iam, Tarle- 
ton pushed forward precipitately on the 17th of January, 
and came upon the Americans — not in the hurry and 
confusion of a flight, but coolly posted, with the break- 
fast things just removed, and every man ready, refreshed 
by a hea.rty morning meal, and not averse to a very 



128 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

different encounter. The British were fatigued by a five 
hours' march, the troops of Morgan refreshed by a rest of 
quite the same duration, to say nothing of the breakfast. 
But Tarleton, flattered by frequent successes, and, in some 
degree, the spoiled child of fortune, was not the man to 
wait. Morgan gave him advantages which, had he been 
another sort of enemy, his prudence would have scarcely 
yielded. His ground was upon an eminence, gently 
ascending for three or four hundred yards, and covered 
with an open wood. On the crown of this eminence he 
posted the Maryland regulars, nearly three hundred in 
number ; in line, on their right, two companies of Vir- 
ginia militia, and a corps of Georgians : making, in all,, 
some four hundred and thirty men. This line, which 
was the rear, was commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel 
Howard. A body of picked Carolina militia, nearly 
three hundred in number, commanded by Pickens, was 
posted, in open order, some one hundred and fifty yards 
in advance of the line of Howard ; and, in front of these, 
was another body of militiamen, one hundred and fifty 
more, scattered, as riflemen, loosely along the whole front. 
These had their particular duties assigned them, suf- 
ciently understood in the words that passed among 
themselves — " Mark the epaulettes !" and admirably did 
they mark them. It was by this process, only, that Mor- 
gan could equalize the superiority of the enemy, derived 
from his greater strength in cavalry, and the presence 
of his artillery, of which the Americans had none. The 
American reserve, one hundred and fifty in number, con- 
sisted of Washington's and M'C all's cavalry, and was 
posted behind an eminence in the rear of the second 
line. 

Tarleton's attempt to reconnoitre was foiled by the 
fatal discharges of the scattered riflemen. His cavalry 
advanced, accordingly, and drove them into the first line, 



BATTLE OP THE COWPENS. 129 

but not until they had taught their enemy to tremble 
under the keen close aim and destructive fire of their 
rifles. Steadily advancing under the fire of his artillery, 
Tarleton pressed forvi^ard. The militia under Pickens, 
commanded to deliver their fire at fifty yards, coolly 
awaited the British approach, and obeyed their instruc- 
tions to the letter. " Here," according to the admission 
of an officer in the Maryland line, " the battle was 
gained." So terrible a fire as met the advancing enemy, 
has seldom been delivered on the field of battle. The 
oflficers, in particular, paid dearly for the epaulettes they 
wore ; while a liberal proportion of the troops by whom 
they were followed, bit the dust in company with their 
gallant leaders. The service done which was required 
at their hands — for it was not expected that they should 
stand the charge of the bayonet — the militia yielded to 
the pressure of the enemy's battle, and left the way open 
to the second line. The shouts of the Biitish declared 
their confidence in the aflTair as in a battle already won, 
and hurried forward in a degree of disorder, which soon 
betrayed the evil consequence, to their ranks, of the loss 
which they had sustained in officers. The fire of the 
second line opened upon them, and staggered them while 
they were thus disordered, and, for nearly thirty minutes, 
it was maintained with constancy and serious effect. 
Still, the assailing column advanced, striving to dress and 
move steadily forward to the charge ; but with so much 
hesitation, that the British commander was compelled to 
bring the 71st regiment into line upon his left, while 
his cavalry swept forward against the American right. 
Morgan perceived the necessity of guarding his flank. 
But his reserve, under Washington, was already busy in 
covering the retreating militia, who, pursued by the 
enemy's horse, and having to traverse the whole front 
of the second line, upon which they were ordered to 



130 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. 

rally, were, necessarily, greatly exposed to this danger. 
To repulse the assailants, and to cover the militia while 
they rallied, was the work of a few moments with 
Washington : but, these moments were big with the 
issue of the day. A retrograde movement of the con- 
tinental line, occasioned by a mistake in orders, had 
nearly lost the victory so nearly won. The British line, 
beholding this retrograde, confounded it with a flight, and 
rushed forward with shouts of triumph, as to a victory. 
And such it might have been, but for the fact that, in 
pursuing the enemy's cavalry some distance beyond 
the British line, Washington had found their right 
flank entirely exposed to him, and had a fair view of 
the confusion prevailing in their ranks. It was at the 
lucky moment, when the retrograde movement of the 
American line was becoming too much accelerated for 
precision, that a messenger from Washington delivered 
these few words : " They are coming on like a mob ; give 
them a fire, and I will charge them." " Face about !" 
was the instant order along the line. " Give them a 
single fire, and the victory is ours." Pickens, with his 
militia, appeared on the hill at this moment, to unite in 
effectual obedience to this command. It was obeyed 
from left to rio^ht. With terrible effect did the lio^htnino^ 
stream forth from the levelled muzzles, at the moment 
when their enemies, rapidly rushing forward and tumul- 
tuously shouting, were within thirty paces only. The 
presented bayonet followed up the fire ; and, as the 
glittering blades of the opposing ranks were interlocked, 
the British dropped their weapons and fell upon their 
faces. The victory was won. The rifles of Pickens's 
militia, and the sabres of Washington's cavalry, finished 
the business of the day; and thus ended the famous 
battle of the Cowpens. 

The enemy lost one hundred and fifty in killed and 



MORGAN VICTORIOUS. 131 

wounded, and four hundred prisoners. Of the Ameri- 
cans, but eleven were killed and sixty-one wounded. 
Morgan retired with two field-pieces, eight hundred 
muskets, two stands of colors, thirty-five baggage-wag- 
ons, tents, and ammunition, and one hundred dragoon 
horses — the trophies of his victory. 



132 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 



CHAPTER IX. 

Morgan's Retreat before Cornwallis. — Greene joins liim on the Catawba. 
— Condition of the American Army. — Mihtia collects under Davidson. — 
British pass the Catawba. — Death of Davidson. — Morgan retreats — 
Passes the Yadkin. — Skirmish with the Rearguard. — Anecdote of Greene. 

The victory of Morgan was complete, but it was one 
upon which he did not venture to repose. Cornwallis, 
he well knew, was in force, at a distance of but twenty- 
five miles, and this space would easily be overcome by 
the fugitive cavalry of the British conveying the tidings 
of their own disaster. Reasoning from what should be 
done in such case, he had every reason to suppose that 
Cornwallis would put his whole army in pursuit. He 
halted upon the battle-field, accordingly, only long 
enough to refresh his men and secure his prisoners ; and 
hurried across Broad river that very evening leaving 
Pickens, with a sufficient detachment of his mounted mi- 
litia, to bury the dead and provide for the wounded. 
With the dawn of morning he was again upon the march, 
pressing, with all haste, to throw the rising waters of the 
Catawba between his pursuers and himself. Fortune, 
and some unnecessary delays on the part of Cornwallis, 
facilitated his objects. Had the latter set off in immedi- 
ate pursuit, discarding all cumbrous baggage, all unne- 
cessary materiel, the victory of Morgan, burdened as he 
was, with his spoils and pursuers, might have availed him 
little. But one or more precious days were lost by the 
British commander; and, when he approached the Cataw- 
ba, he found Morgan already on the opposite side, at a dis- 
tance of twenty miles, with the river roused by freshets, 



CONDITION OP THE ARMY. 133 

roaring and swelling, as an obstacle between them. 
Greene, meanwhile, apprized of the victory of his briga- 
dier, and apprehensive for his safety — pushed as he had 
reason to fearhe wouldbe,by the utmost exertions of Corn- 
wallis — set out, with all speed, to join him. His efforts 
were more successful than those of his enemy. His 
celerity of movement alone saved him from the dangers 
of a progress through a country, almost equally occu- 
pied with friends and foes, which he traversed for a 
space of nearly a hundred and fifty miles, and almost 
without an escort. He had put his army under march- 
ing orders, but felt too greatly the importance of being 
personally at the point of action, at the moment of great- 
est exigency, to await their movements. His hope was, 
not yet to cross weapons with Cornwallis, but simply to 
oppose and foil his generalship ; save Morgan, if possible, 
and so hang upon the skirts of the enemy, like a threat- 
ening thunder-cloud, as to paralyze his enterprises until 
the moment which should make him ready for the fight. 
To cross weapons with Cornwallis now, was quite beyond 
his strength. This was the conviction that qualified the 
delight which he felt at the recent victory. It was one 
of which he could take no advantage ; and he stood, tan- 
talized with the opening, which, with an adequate army, 
would have been offered him by the field of Cowpens, and 
the purposeless and unprofitable pursuit of the British. 
His nominal force, including that of Morgan and the 
militia, did not exceed seventeen hundred men ; while 
the strength of Cornwallis, joined by Leslie, must have 
considerably exceeded that number. In equipments, 
dress, discipline, and munitions of war, the superiority of 
the latter was very much greater still. In money, Greene 
was still poorer than in men ; not a ha,rd dollar being in 
the money-chest, even for the most important necessity 
of an army — secret intelligence. 
12 



134 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

But, with little to encourage, lie was still hopeful. 
With the waters of the Catawba roarincr between the 
two armies, and forbidding the farther pursuit of the 
British, he busied himself in recruiting the militia. 
With a considerable number of recruits, he might even 
venture, when the river subsided, to dispute the passage 
with the enemy, and to this labor he addressed himself 
with his habitual energy. " It is my only wish to be 
upon an equal footing with Lord Cornwallis, and if 
I do not give you a good account of him, I will 
agree to be subject to your censure." Such was his 
language to Washington. Again, he says : *' I am 
not without hopes of ruining Lord Cornwallis, if he 
persists in his mad scheme of pushing through the coun- 
try." To effect this object, Greene required a well-ap- 
pointed army of five thousand infantry and eight hundred 
or a thousand horse, equipped for active operations. 
" Such a force, assisted by the auxiliary aid of the mili- 
tia, would prove superior to any force the enemy could 
maintain in the field in this quarter." The militia was 
forthcoming, but there was no maintenance for them. 
" There is," says he, " a great spirit of enterprise pre- 
vailing among the militia of these southern states ;" but 
they fluctuated in their periods of service, going and 
coming at pleasure, as well they might do, when they 
not only got no pay, but were without clothing or pro- 
visions. " Early in January, several hundreds of the 
troops actually could not appear at drill, or perform 
guard duty, for want of clothing." — " More than half our 
numbers are, in a manner, naked ; so much so that we 
can not put them on the least kind of duty. Indeed^ 
there is a great nuiiiber that have not a rag of clothes on 
them, except a little piece of blanket, in the Indian form, 
around their icaistsP That men, under such conditions, 
should be found in camp at all, is passing wonderful. 



GREENE S FORTITUDE AND SKILL. 135 

Greene made the most of his resources, and bore up 
against his difficulties with exemplary fortitude and skill. 
To secure the prisoners taken by Morgan, was a first 
object, and, to do this without lessening the numerical 
strength of his army, was not less important. They had 
been properly sent forward in advance, by Morgan, as 
soon as he had effected the passage of the Catawba; but 
there was still a long journey to perform before a place 
could be reached wheie they would be secure from res- 
cue. It happened that the term of service of the Vir- 
ginia militia was nearly out. Greene employed them 
during the remaining interval of duty, to take charge of 
the prisoners, and conduct them to Virginia. He was 
thus enabled to secure his prize without losing the ser- 
vice of a single, man. Orders had previously been given 
for effecting a junction, at Salisbury, of his force with 
that of Morgan. He had prepared for this junction, col- 
lected and camj^ed his provisions, where they lay away 
from the contemplated route ; called in his detachments ; 
given orders to convey stores and valuable property to 
the interior from the seaboard; and, in order the more 
securely to provide for the chances of retreat, instructed 
his quartermaster-general to form a magazine on the 
Roanoke, and hold his boats in readiness for transporta- 
tion on the Dan. Despatches to the several governors 
of the southern states, to supply their several quotas — 
to Steuben, to hasten his recruits — and to the mount- 
aineers along the frontier ranges of the Carolinas and 
Virginia, to come forward and renew the glorious exam- 
ples of courage and patriotism which they had shown at 
King's mountain — were among the thousand details 
which furnished employment, at this period of exigency, 
to his comprehensive and indefatigable mind. 

To resume. Greene's exertions to collect a sufficient 
body of militia for the defence of the passage of the Ca- 



136 LIFE OP NATIIANAEL GREENE. 

tawba, was not successful, and the stream now began to 
fall. It was evident that the moment would soon approach 
when the British army would begin to move ; and all that 
could be done was to retard his passage, and cripple him as 
much as possible, while the force of Morgan disappeared. 
For this object, General Davidson, with three hundred 
mounted riflemen, forming a corps of observation, were 
to watch and dispute the passage of the river, while a 
similar force, also militia riflemen, were scattered along 
the bank, so as to keep eye and aim upon all of the sev- 
eral fords by which the enemy might attempt to cross. 
Grreene remained with these, in order to bring them off" 
as soon as the passage was effected ; while Morgan, at 
Beaty's ford, and six miles nearer the place of rendez- 
vous (which was designated, and on the road to Salisbury, 
some sixteen miles from the Catawba), was prepared to 
march at the first signal. He did so, hastily and in 
silence, on the evening of the 31st of January. The 
river was now falling quite as rapidly as it had risen ; 
no more militia were to be expected, and the British 
were preparing to force the passage. After several feints, 
and false demonstrations, the better to deceive the Amer- 
ican riflemen as to the true course which he meant to 
take in crossing the Catawba, Cornwallis, at length, at 
midnight, on the first of February, approached the ford 
called M'Cowan's with the main body of his army. This, 
as a private passage, but little frequented, aff^orded the best 
prospect of effecting a surprise of the Americans. While 
he attempted the ford in person, he despatched his favor- 
ite colonels, Webster and Tarleton, with a strong de- 
tachment, to cross at Beaty's, the ford which Mor- 
gan had so recently abandoned. Of course, there was 
no obstacle to the passage of this detachment, which 
reached the opposite banks in safety. Davidson, mean- 
while, having command of the American riflemen, main- 



THE BRITISH PASS THE CATAWBA. 137 

talned his station along the banks which commanded the 
ford at M'Cowan's. He had not been deceived by the 
ruse of the British general, and maintained for him a 
vis^ilant watch, which, but for the choice of the time for 
crossing, and an accident which, seeming to threaten, had 
really helped the enemy, would have enabled him to ex- 
act a heavy toll of blood for the passage. Cornwallis 
judiciously chose the night-time to effect his object. 
There was no proper employment of the rifle in the 
dark ; and, in its shadows, the troops were but partially 
conscious of tlie appalling aspect of a stream five hun- 
dred yards in width, foaming tumultuous over its une- 
qual bed of rocks, overtui'ning men and horses, sweep- 
ing the strongest from their feet, and leaving them inca- 
pable of defence from their assailants, secure and steady 
on the river. Their fate must have been inevitable had 
the passage been attempted in broad daylight. But Corn- 
wallis determined wisely. The heads of his columns 
entered the river about the dawn of day, but the day 
opened in storm and rain, and objects were scarcely 
visible except when near at hand. Davidson, knowing 
the ford, had posted his men to receive them where they 
should approach the eastern bank. Crouching among 
the trees and bushes that lined the river, they waited 
anxiously for the moment when they should each be able 
to select the object for his aim. But, in the darkness and 
confusion of the scene, the strife and roar of raging wa- 
ters, and the dense mists of the falling rain, the guide of 
the British lost his way, became alarmed, and finally fled, 
leaving the column to make its forward progress as they 
could. This saved them. They wandered out of the 
track, and, though getting into much deeper water, yet 
succeeded in reaching the shore at a point where they had 
not been expected, and where no preparations had been 
made for them. Davidson was soon apprized of this mis- 
3 2* 



138 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

fortune, and proceeded, with all haste, to repair it, by shift- 
ing his position, and bringing his rifles to bear ii2:)on them 
in front. His movement was made with equal judgment 
and despatch, but, incautiously exposing himself, in the 
glare of his own fires, he sunk, mortally wounded, under 
a volley from the British platoons. His rifles, however, 
were not idle. Wherever they could bring an enemy 
within range, they covered him with a fatal finger. 
Lieutenant-Colonel Hall, leading the light-infantry of the 
British, was among their slain, and Comwallis himself 
had a narrow escape, his horse having been killed under 
him. A sharp conflict, which preceded the fall of Da- 
vidson, was terminated in his death, and leaving the pas- 
sage free, which they could no longer successfully de- 
fend, the militia dispersed in search of safety. A small 
body of these, not more than a hundred in number, 
stopped at a tavern some ten miles from the scene of 
conflict, and, supposing themselves safe, prepared to take 
refreshment. They had nearly paid dearly for their in- 
discretion. The approach of Tarleton compelled them 
to take to their horses. Fortunately, their videttes gave 
the alarm in season, and, accustomed to deliver their- fire 
on horseback, almost as well as on foot, the Americans 
gave him a Parthian reception, shooting as they fled, and 
dashed away into forests which he did not think it advi- 
sable to penetrate. Seven men and twenty horses fell at 
this single fire ; which the Biitish colonel avenged in the 
wanton massacre of a few old men and boys upon whom 
he fell in this expedition, and who neither offered, nor 
meditated resistance. 

The militia of Davidson dispersed for a time, after the 
fall of their general. But seven miles from the tavern 
where Tarleton had his encounter with a part of them, 
he little knew that Greene with his suite, but without 
any other escort, remained in waiting for them. At a 




Mrs. Steele giving Money to Greene. — Page 139. 



INCIDENT OF FEMALE PATRIOTISM. 139 

single dash, and with but twenty men, he might have 
pounced upon this more important prey, Greene waited 
for Davidson and his militia in vain. He lingered till 
midnight, before he learned the fate of that brave officer 
and the dispersion of his troops. Then, with a heavy 
heart, he proceeded to Salisbury, where he arrived, 
exhausted in body, and humbled and distressed in spir- 
its. Here it was, that one of those incidents occurred, 
of which the revolutionary history in the southern 
states can boast so many, in which woman shows her- 
self not less the angel of patriotism than of charity 
and love. As Greene made his appearance at Steele's 
tavern, the disordered state of his garments, the stiff- 
ness of his limbs, the languor of his movements, the 
dejection of his mood and manner, became painfully 
apparent to every eye. Approaching him, as he alighted 
from his horse, his friend. Dr. Read, addressed him with 
inquiries of most anxious solicitude ; to which he replied, 
not able to repress his anguish, that he came alone, 
exhausted, penniless, and hungry. The reply did not 
escape the ears of the excellent landlady. His breakfast 
was soon prepared and smoking ; and he had scarcely 
finished it, when she presented herself, closed the door 
of the apartment, and, producing a small bag ^f specie 
in each hand, she forced them upon him. " Take them," 
said the noble creature; "you will need, and I can do 
without the money." Never did help come at a better 
season. An acquisition so important to the public ser- 
vice, was not to be rejected through scruples of mere 
delicacy ; and Greene rose from the breakfast-table, no 
longer penniless — no longer succumbing to the condition 
which had made him feel himself so utterly alone. The 
obligation was afterward repaid. A few words expressed 
the gratitude of the American general. He had not 
time for more. His friends warned him against the 



140 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. 

numbers and the hostility of the loyalists of this region, 
rendered doubly eager and active in consequence of the 
approach of their enemies; and he hurried with all 
expedition to rejoin the army, then about to effect the 
passage of the Yadkin. 

It was now the aim of Lord Cornwallis to repair the 
consequences of previous delays, by pushing his adver- 
sary with all possible rapidity. Once upon the same 
side of the river with the Americans, he proceeded to 
make a second sacrifice of all unnecessary baggage. 
Destroying his wagons, he was enabled to double the 
teams for his artillery, and to mount a considerable body 
of infantry. These he joined to his cavalry, which he 
pushed forward under General O'Hara. His hope was 
now to overtake Morgan, before he could pass the Yad- 
kin. But Morgan's command, relieved by the militia 
under Davidson, had been greatly refreshed by the halt 
made upon the Catawba; and, having the start of his 
eager adversary, and urged forward by Greene, he 
pressed on with a celerity, which was rather increased 
than lessened, by a heavy rain-storm, which prevailed 
through the whole of a day and night. Greene knew 
that a sud(Jen and great rise in the river would be the 
consequence of this rain, and was anxious to secure the 
passage before the occurrence of an event which, if he 
could succeed in doing so, would insure his safety, and 
enable him to avoid that resort to a last stake, which it 
was the policy of the British general to compel. The 
latter concentrated all his resources upon the pursuit, 
and his troops obeyed his wishes with an alacrity, that 
showed how well they knew the importance of the prize. 
But their labors were again taken in vain. Morgan 
reached the Yadkin without having felt his enemy at his 
heels ; and, here it was that the provident forethought of 
Greene enabled him to reap all the benefits of his rapid 



PASSAGE OF THE YADKIN. 141 

march. Boats had been collected, by his orders, long 
in advance of the necessity which he yet foresaw ; and 
these, ranged along the river at the several crossing- 
places, afforded him a quick passage of the Yadkin, 
whether his purpose be attack or defence. The infantry 
and baggage of the Americans were transported to the 
opposite shore without difficulty, and the stream was not 
yet sufficiently swollen to keep the cavalry from fording. 
Yet, so rapid had been the pursuit of O'Hara, with his 
powerful detachment of cavalry and mounted infantry, 
that he succeeded in crossing weapons with the Ameri- 
can rear-guard, which was composed entirely of militia 
of the country, before it could throw the river between 
itself and the enemy. This guard had been delayed, in 
consequence of its being joined by considerable numbers 
of the whigs of Salisbury, who, with their families, were 
compelled to fly, as a penalty of their patriotism, at the 
approach of the British. The baggage of these fugi- 
tives proved an incumbrance ; but, though retarding 
their progress, it was not the proper policy of the Ameri- 
can general, looking to the future no less than the pres- 
ent, to discard it from his protection. The baggage of 
the army had been passed ; the army itself was in safety 
on the opposite side ; but, before the wagons of the fugi- 
tives could be got across, the enemy broke upon them. 
But the militia stood their ground manfully. It was mid- 
night, and they were favored by the darkness. A sharp 
skirmish ensued, in which both sides claimed the advan- 
tage. That it belonged to the Americans, is beyond a 
doubt, since they gained their object, saved most of the 
wagons, and effected their own passage in safety and 
without loss ; — a boast which it was not in the power of 
the British to assert. 

O'Hara chafed vainly, upon one side of the river, at 
the security which his enemy enjoyed upon the other. 



142 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. 

A fruitless attempt to seize upon some of the boats of 
the Americans, increased his distemper. He was com- 
pelled to draw bridle and wait for the approach of his 
sujDerior. It was not long before Cornwallis, with the 
whole British army, appeared on the banks of the 
Yadkin. The prospect before him was sufficiently- 
mortifying. Thus far, his exertions had been taken in 
vain. Greene was in possession of all the boats, and 
the stream was now beyond its bounds, swollen by the 
rains, and no longer fordable. The artillery was brought 
up, and long shot were employed to effect a passage 
which was not within the power of the soldiery. A 
furious cannonade was opened upon the American en- 
campment on the opposite banks ; but it proved an idle 
waste of ammunition. The camp was sheltered behind 
a rising ground, while the rocks on the margin of the 
stream affi^rded crouching-places of sufficient security 
for the sentinels. The British general had all this can- 
nonading to himself. In Morgan's command there was 
no artillery. The two pieces which had been taken at 
the Cowpens, placed in wagons, had been hurried on, 
with the prisoners, to Virginia. He could, accordingly, 
return none of the distant civilities of the British. These 
do not seem to have occasioned much disquiet among the 
Americans. It is related of Greene, for example, that he 
had taken up his quarters in a little cabin, which was par- 
tially sheltered by a pile of rocks, a small distance from 
the river. Here, while his military family were amusing 
themselves in drawing straws, or doing what else they 
thought proper to beguile the time, the general was 
more busily employed in preparing his despatches. At 
lenoi'th, however, as if the British had gruessed his hidinof- 
place, and were anxious to disturb his occupation, their 
cannon were pointed to the cabin, the roof of which, 
alone, was apparent to their aim. Very soon the bullets 



ANECDOTE OF GREENE. 143 

were seen to strike the rocks in the rear, and to skip 
about the neighborhood. Soon they travelled nearer 
and nearer, until the clapboards of the roof began to fly 
in all directions. Wliat emotions these unruly visiters 
provoked in the minds of those who were at their inno- 
cent games of Push-pin and Jack Straw — the aids of 
the general — have not been reported; but Greene, him- 
self, is described as showing no sort of concern. He 
still wrote, heeding nothing but his despatches, and only 
turning from them to answer the numerous applications 
that were constantly addressed to him. His pen never 
rested but at the appearance of some new applicant, 
who received his answer, distinguished by equal calm- 
ness and precision ; the pen of the general being again 
set in motion the moment of his departure. 



144 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 



CHAPTER X. 

Continued Pursuit of the Americans by Comwallis. — Greene meditates 
a Stand at Guilford. — Condition of his Anriy. — Continues the Retreat 
through North Carohna. — Dekides Comwallis, who pursues a Detach- 
ment under Williams, while the main Army of the Americans crosses 
the River Dan in Security. 

The British general, for a time, was nonplused. With 
a superior army, in better training and condition, within 
striking distance of his enemy, he was yet compelled to 
look on, without being able to strike a blow. It was not 
merely the interests of his sovereign that suffered by this 
involuntary inactivity. His own reputation was seriously 
endangered by the position of his affairs. How had his 
enemy eluded him 1 How, encumbered with prisoners 
and baggage, with a vastly inferior force, had he con- 
trived to escape the pursuit, which he had every reason 
to apprehend would be hotly urged, and which, thus 
urged, would, in all probability, have ruined him ? True, 
that, on two occasions, the unexpected rising of the wa- 
ters had interposed for his safety. But might not Com- 
wallis have overtaken him before he reached the Cataw- 
ba 1 and did not his mounted men and cavalry, a force in 
itself almost equal to that commanded by Morgan, actu- 
ally engage the rear-guard of the latter, on the banks of 
the very stream which now opposed itself to his forward 
progress ? History points to the want of forethought, 
on the part of Comwallis, which, unlike the case with 
Greene, had failed to provide against the rising of the 
waters ; and to the waste of more than forty-eight hours 



CORNWALLIS'S FORTUNES. 145 

in the destruction of his baggage, which a small detach- 
ment might have been left to break up and consign to 
the flames. It is recorded of Greene, that, when he 
heard of the pause of the British army to destroy its 
baggage — an act which indicated the determination to 
traverse the whole country, if need be, in pursuit — he 
rose exultingly, with the prophetic exclamation, " Then 
he is ours !" The prediction was verified; not literally, 
perhaps, for Greene was not permitted to be "in at the 
death" of the game — but verified in the capture of York- 
town, as a strict result of this insane expedition. 

Standing on the banks of the Yadkin, and surveying 
the tents of his enemy, secure beyond, there is no doubt 
that Cornwallis began to entertain some misgivings of 
his policy and fortune. Perhaps his misgivings with re- 
gard to his policy were only due to the unpromising aspect 
of his fortunes. His efforts, whether urged with sufiicient 
energy and audacity or not, had been fruitless ; and it 
was now due to his safety that he should strike a blow, 
sufiiciently heavy and successful, to do away with the 
impression of the brilliant victory at Cowpens. But his 
mind evidently vacillated between its objects ; the worst 
event, perhaps, in the career of a military man. He con- 
sumed four precious days in deliberation, which should 
have been employed in action ; and then resolved un- 
wisely. There were still two ways of striking at his 
enemy. As yet, the junction had not been effected be- 
tween the two divisions of Greene's army. That under 
Morgan has employed our attention, and is now before 
us ; but the main body of the army, under General Hu- 
ger, was in full progress for Guilford. To dart between 
these two bodies, and strike them in detail, was the de- 
sire and final resolution of the British commander. This 
resolution, of itself, was not amiss, had it not been too 
tardy of adoption ; but it was not till two days after his 
13 



146 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. 

arrival at the banks of the Yadkin, that he detached par- 
ties to reconnoitre the country, and to seek other cros- 
sing-places, nor until the eighth of February, that he at 
length passed the river. Yet the river had been falling 
on \h.G fourth, was ford able the next day, and Greene's 
army was in motion, after the halt of a day, the moment 
he discovered the subsiding of the stream. The hesita- 
tion of the British general, betraying doubt and incerti- 
tude, may have arisen out of his difficulty to decide upon 
the division which was most proper to assail. It may 
have been the fruit, also, of some vague general appre- 
hension as to the dangers and exigencies of a long pur- 
suit, through a waste country, filled with bitter foes and 
doubtful friends, when the important object to be gained, 
the junction of his force with that of Philips in Virginia,- 
might be baffled ; in which event, not only must South 
Carolina be lost, but he, himself, be destroyed or cap- 
tured. Whatever may have been his doubts or appre- 
hensions, they certainly produced such a pause in his 
action, as set at peril all that he had hoped from his pre- 
vious enterprise. Crossing the Yadkin on the 8th, and 
resuming the pursuit of Greene, in the hope of cutting 
him off from the upper fords of the Dan, he gave him 
opportunities and a start which it was not easy to re- 
cover. Not that Greene's object was simply to elude 
and escape his formidable adversary. His purpose was a 
more profound one. We find him, for example, halting 
Morgan at the Catawba, and resting his jaded troops ; 
availing himself of all the respite aflbrded by the rising 
of the river, yet without preparing, in this delay to offer 
battle when the enemy should cross. Starting off, when 
the passage is about to be effected, we find him keeping 
N just far enough ahead to beguile the British in pursuit. 
Crossing the Yadkin as he had done the Catawba, he 
again halts, and coolly surveys hjs pursuer. Thus he 



Greene's policy. 147 

rests quietly, until again warned by the falling of the 
waters ; and pushing forward for the Dan, again to prac- 
tise the same game ; beguile his enemy yet deeper into 
the heart of the country, where, in the event of a battle, 
his resources must be cut off, and where a defeat, or dis- 
aster of any kind, would leave him hopeless of help, and 
at the mercy of the Americans. Cornwallis might well 
have hesitated to follow this lure. But he probably did 
not suspect Grreene of a scheme so profound. It was 
one cause of the failure of the British, that they never 
learned the lesson, till too late, which teaches them to re- 
spect an enemy. The pursuit of Cornwallis, and the 
retreat of Greene before him, has been entitled " a mili- 
tary race," and the credit awarded to the two parties 
has been limited to the speed with which one of them 
fled, and with which the other pursued. The subtle pol- 
icy which governed Greene's movements has but too fre- 
quently escaped the notice of historians. It is true, that, 
assuming it as the cue of the American general to run 
only, it somewhat worried them to account for his fre- 
quent halts. But it was easier to suppose that, in doing so, 
he only blundered in carrying out his own policy, than to 
admit that there was a something occult in his progress 
which they could not altogether fathom. The game of 
Greene, a sufficiently delicate one, was to amuse his 
enemy — delay his progress — beguile him with hope, 
onward and onward, still farther from the base of his op- 
erations, from all resources, while the country closed in 
upon him on all hands, and the militia, springing up 
from the soil, hung upon his footsteps, cutting off his sup- 
plies, and embodying for the final struggle which should 
give the coujp de grace to his career, as in the case of 
Burgoyne. We must give Cornwallis some credit for a 
supposed anticipation of such a fortune. To this, and 
other causes not apparent to us, we may probably assign 



148 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. 

that incertitude of conduct which seems to have para- 
lyzed his energies, and was certainly unfavorable to his 
objects. 

Greene, meanwhile, after remaining a day upon the 
banks of the Yadkin — evidently, with the policy which 
we have indicated, that of beguiling the enemy still 
farther in pursuit — continued his march, and, at length, 
planted himself in a secure position, a short distance 
from Salem, in the forks of Abbott's creek. Here he 
again halted, and watched the movements of his adver- 
sary. The position was one which not only enabled 
him to do this effectually, but served, in some measure, 
to distract the judgment of Cornwallis in regard to the 
future route which the Americans might take. On that 
subject Greene had already decided. He had, from 
Salisbury, sent instructions to Huger, with the main 
army, to push for Guilford, where he designed to effect 
a junction of the two divisions ; his farther purpose be- 
ing to make a stand, if advisable under the circum- 
stances, at that place, and if a proper position could be 
found for fighting his adversary to advantage. He had 
grown somewhat weary of seeming only to be desirous 
of eluding his enemy; and there were' several causes, 
besides, which rendered it advisable that he should give 
him battle. The moral effect of a prolonged retreat 
was highly injurious, in a region where the population 
was not only greatly divided in sentiment, but where 
they had been greatly dispirited by the previous events 
of the conflict. Even the brilliant victory at the Cow- 
pens, though of the most encouraging character, had 
failed to make an impression sufficiently deep to exclude 
from remembrance the repeated disasters of the strug- 
gle ; and it was highly important that this impression 
should be renewed, if possible, at this very juncture, 
when the effect of this victory was still, though begin- 



GREENE MEDITATES BATTLE. 149 

ning to subside, tolerably fresh and vivid in the recollec- 
tions of the people. Besides, Cornwallis had now been 
lured sufficiently far from his resources for the purpose 
of the Americans. He had now reached the centre of 
North Carolina — was at a great distance from his mag- 
azines in South Carolina, and quite as remote from the 
British army then operating in Virginia. Could he be 
brought now to fight, on a field selected by his adver- 
sary, he must, necessarily, fight under every disadvan- 
tage. Even a victory would not materially help his 
career, could the Americans cripple him in the contest ; 
while any success to the latter, even a drawn battle, 
would probably result in placing the British army liors 
du combat. Short of provisions, with their munitions of 
war partially or quite exhausted, and encumbered with 
wounded, they must fall an easy prey to the militia, rising 
on every hand, under the encouragement affi^rded by the 
prospect of overwhelming the invader. With these cal- 
culations, Greene was already contemplating the strug- 
gle for victory, while Cornwallis imagined him only 
anxious to elude the strife. We have seen, already, 
how industriously he had striven, though with small 
success, to rouse up and organize the militia. Contem- 
plating the approaching trial of strength with his pur- 
suer, he wrote to the officers of militia in the vicinity of 
Guilford, to call out their followers, and appear in all their 
strength at that place. Couriers were also despatched to 
Hillsborough for the same object, and every preparation 
was made for the anticipated encounter. A single day's 
march would bring the division of Morgan to Guilford, 
and, with advices that Cornwallis was in motion and 
had crossed the Yadkin, this body of troops began their 
movement. The junction of the two divisions was 
effected on the 9th of February, the army being strength- 
ened by the arrival of Lee with his legion, who joined 
13* 



150 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

them on the following day. But the militia did not 
appear in numbers at all equal to the public expectation ; 
and a review of the American forces, showed them to be 
quite inadequate to the struggle with an army so supe- 
rior in numbers and equipment as that of Cornwallis. 
The whole of the force under Greene, of all arms, fit 
for duty, was but two thousand and thirty-six ; of these, 
but fourteen hundred and twenty-six were regulars. 
The army of the British, on the other hand, was known 
to consist of nearly, or quite, three thousand men, all 
soldiers in the highest state of discipline, and amply pro- 
vided with the proper clothing and munitions. A coun- 
cil of war unanimously resolved, that to offer battle to the 
enemy, under such a disparity of strength and resources, 
would be sheer desperation ; and Greene reluctantly 
submitted to the necessity, sufficiently obvious to him- 
self, of continuinsf his retreat. Could he have drawn 
together an additional force of twelve or fifteen hundred 
militia, his resolution would have been to offer battle ; 
but the wasting policy which governed the movements 
of the militia — by which, recruited for a short period, 
half of their time was consumed in marching to and 
from the service — was fatal to their efficiency and the 
permanence of an army. The Virginia militia, for exam- 
ple, had been sent into the field for a tour of duty of 
three months ; and, in this brief period, how much of it 
remained unconsumed, when, going and returning, they 
were required to traverse, without any employment 
against the enemy, a space of six hundred milesl As 
fast, therefore, as new supplies of the miUtia made their 
appearance, corresponding numbers were ready to de- 
part ; and the consequence was, such a fluctuation in the 
strength of the army, as continually to baffle its efficiency, 
and to leave it in doubt as to its own numbers. Greene's 
disappointment was great as he contemplated the neces- 



Greene's manoeuvres. 151 

sity of farther retreat. He had been hoping against 
hope. He had baffled pursuit thus far, but it was still 
humiliating to be compelled to submit to it ; and, even 
though he should not be overtaken by his pursuer, it 
v\^as to the latter an advantage, next to a victory, if the 
Americans should still be forced to fly. It was not the 
least mortifying consciousness of the American general, 
that his opponent, penetrating a whig country, was 
already lighting his cruel torch in the blaze of burning 
cottages. Greene could only sorrow for the sufferers : 
he could neither save nor avenge them. 

The resolution being taken to continue the retreat, 
the American general lost no time in putting it in execu- 
tion. Cornwallis was still pressing forward, and, on the 
10th of February, a space of twenty-five miles, only, 
separated the rival armies. The present aim of Greene 
was to reach the river Dan, and to place its waters 
between him and his pursuers. This sti-eam, which rises 
among the mountains of Virginia, soon penetrates the 
territory of North Carolina, and, pursuing a sinuous 
progress for a while, in the latter state, finally takes its 
way back into Virginia. We shall not follow its course. 
Enough to say, that, in seasons of freshet, the upper 
fords alone are passable without boats. Cornwallis nat- 
urally supposed that Greene would make for this quar- 
ter ; and the latter so manoeuvred, in his progress, as to 
confirm him in this impression. But the American gen- 
eral had already determined upon the route to the lower 
and deeper crossing-place. Without artillery, and with 
an inferior army, the passage, at a point which offered 
no interruptions to the pursuit of his enemy, would profit 
him little in any endeavor to elude his adversary. Nor 
was the route offering by the upper Dan, at all favorable 
to the hope which he entertained of reinforcements and 
supplies from Virginia. These supplies were of the 



152 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. 

last importance to his future strength and safety, and he 
nuturally sought to increase, by all means, the facilities 
for their arrival. While Cornwallis was manceuvring 
busily, to intercept and arrest him in his flight to the 
upper Dan, Greene encountered his schemes, with others 
admirably calculated to continue him in his error. He 
detached from his army a force of seven hundred light 
troops, the command of which was assigned to Colonel 
Williams. These troops were composed of the vete- 
rans of the army — those who had fought at Cowpens, 
and who were to be relied upon. Unencumbered with 
baggage, they could move with the greatest rapidity, 
and their commander had his instructions to throw him- 
self boldly in the path of the enemy. His detachment, 
ostensibly a covering force for the retreat of the army, 
was, nevertheless, pushed forward in a direction which 
confiraied Cornwallis in the conviction, that Greene was 
aiming at the upper, or shallow, crossing-places of the 
Dan. He Httle knew that his wary adversary had, with 
excellent forethought, provided boats along the river, at 
its deepest parts, affording him, at any moment, the 
means of passage. One of the first measures of his 
career in the south, when he first assumed the command 
of the army, was, as we have seen, the exploration of 
these rivers, and a meet provision of the necessary mate- 
riel by which to navigate them. It was fortunate, at the 
same time, that the agents to whom these duties had 
been assigned, had performed them with that secresy 
which is one of the essential elements of success in war. 
The passage of the lower Dan thus provided for, it 
brought Greene to the strongest point in his own base 
of operations, nearer than ever to his sources of supply, 
his reinforcements, and the magazines which he had also 
established, long before, upon the Roanoke. 

The Dan was now the only river which lay between 



RELATIONS OF THE OPPOSING ARMIES. 153 

Cornwallis and Virginia. To suffer the enemy to pass 
this line, and to form a junction with other bodies of his 
army, ah^eady within and threatening the latter state, 
would probably complete the attempted segregation of 
the south from the confederacy. The eyes of the nation, 
drawn to the conflict in the south by the brilliant and en- 
couraging affair at the Cowpens, were necessarily fixed 
upon the progress of the two armies in the inveterate chase 
which had been kept up by the British. Never had the 
anxiety of the country been more intense on any occa- 
sion. For nearly a month, the whole continent seemed 
to hang in breathless anticipation, looking momently in 
dread of some catastrophe which should end the fate of 
the southern army. Fear had finally given place in 
some degree to admiration, as the manoeuvres of the 
American general had so completely succeeded in baf- 
fling the wolfish rage of the pursuer. But the drama in- 
creased in its interest with the continuance of the action, 
and every moment seemed burdened, in the public feel- 
ing, with the weight of an empire. The two rival com- 
manders were fully conscious of this interest, and of the 
vital importance of the struggle. The junction of the 
two divisions of the American army having been effected 
at G-uilford, Cornwallis made a brief halt at Salem, even 
as the tiger draws himself up and seems to contract his 
dimensions, as in preparation for the final spring upon 
that enemy, who has also nerved himself with his fullest 
strength. Everything in their respective fortunes de- 
pended upon the gain of a march, and each guarded 
every movement of his own, and scrutinized all those of 
his opponent, by all the eyes which armies are permitted 
to employ — scouts, patrols, and spies — which followed 
every footstep and reported every conjecture. 

A first ruse de guerre of Cornwallis had for its object 
to alarm Greene for the safety of his stores at Hillsbor- 



154 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. 

ough. These had been delayed at this place, lacking 
proper means of transportation, and were only now un- 
der way to a place of safety, Hillsborough itself, as the 
seat of government, was a place, it was thought, of suffi- 
cient importance to demand the protection of the Ameri- 
can army. Its position, on the right of the road to Guil- 
ford, was directly accessible from Salem. Should Greene 
lose ground in this direction, he would be cut off from 
the Dan. The first demonstration of Cornwallis was 
made on this route. But the American general was not 
to be overreached. He adroitly turned the practice of 
hi^ adversary against himself The instant progress of 
Williams, with his select detachment, in the direction of 
the upper Dan, induced the British general to make a 
movement to the left, in the hope of cutting off this 
party. The army under Greene, he fondly assumed to 
be secure — never dreaming of the ferry-boats — and be- 
lieving that he had them safely in a cut de sac. Williams, 
lightly enough equipped for a race, coolly kept in front 
of the enemy, always sufficiently near to be confounded 
with its own advance. For four days he marched thus, 
steadily forward, beguiling the enemy still farther from 
his prey. He had with him a force which could be 
relied upon in such a progress. His command of the 
seven hundred veterans who had fought at Cowpens,had 
been strengthened by the legion of Lee, the cavalry of 
Washington, and a small select body of militia riflemen. 
These were all steady soldiers, ready for the most des- 
perate service, and Williams, himself a leader of the 
most experienced courage, was supported by such gal- 
lant captains as Howard and Carrington, from whose 
fearlessness and talent everything might be expected. 

The scheme of Greene was successful. Mistaking 
this detachment for the rear-guard of the Americans, 
Cornwallis at once contracted his extended line of oper- 



STRATAGEM OF GREENE. 155 

ations, and concentrated all his efforts upon the single 
object of overtaking and bringing his enemy to battle. 
Greene, meanwhile, was pressing forward in a direct 
course for the ferry of the lower Dan. His march was 
a painful one, though utterly unmolested. The cold was 
intense, and the troops were nearly without shoes or 
clothing. Hundreds of the soldiers tracked the ground. 
with bloody feet, and in a complaint which one of the 
American officers utters about this time, we find it sta- 
ted, that, ** as his men were generally barefoot, long 
marches had, at length, incapacitated them from march- 
ing at all." In the corps best equipped, a blanket suf- 
ficed for four men, and cloaks and overcoats were luxu- 
ries such as the best provided were not even so presump- 
tuous as to dream of. Greene could only soitow over 
the sufferings which he had not the power to alleviate. 
His troops were, happily, constant in all their sufferings, 
and, with a perfect confidence in their leader, and with 
the object of their aim in view, they steadily pressed for- 
ward, unsinking and unrepining, for four weary days, 
until, within a few miles of the river, they yielded to toil 
and night, and snatched a brief respite of refreshing sleep. 
With the dawn, they resumed their march, and, reaching 
the banks of the Dan, deeply rolling between, they found 
the boats in readiness. A few hours sufficed to transport 
them to the opposite shore. Greene, however, remained 
on the southern bank of the river, awaiting the light 
troops, while he sent a despatch to inform Williams that 
the object for which he had been mystifying Cornwallis 
had been gained. 

This M^as on the fifteenth of the month. Williams, 
meanwhile, had pursued his game with gi-eat dexterity 
and spirit. His first movement had brought him directly 
in front of his enemy, and drew upon him, as his move- 
ment was meant to do, all the attention of Cornwallis. 



156 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. ^r 

So close and unremitting was now the pursuit of the 
British general, that our little band was permitted leisure 
for but a single meal per day, and even this was Subject 
to interruptions which sometimes spoiled the feast, if not 
the appetite. So severe was the duty of the night, in 
the employment of pickets and patrols, that, but six 
hours for sleep in forty-eight, were all that the American 
colonel could possibly allow them. Still they plodded 
forward with vast perseverance, through wretched roads, 
in wretched weather, cheerfully, under the necessity, and 
gratified, as they were conscious that every moment of 
their pursuit served to insure the safety of the main 
array. It was not simply a race in which they indulged. 
They were compelled to maintain a degree of vigilance 
which allowed them no moment for supposing them- 
selves in security. The enemy's patrols were continu- 
ally upon their heels, and frequent skirmishes enlivened 
the otherwise tedious progress. On one of these, the 
enemy suffered a loss of eighteen of Tarleton's troopers, 
the Americans losing only a poor boy, a bugler, who was 
totally unarmed, and was butchered while he begged 
for mercy. Lee, who commanded the rear-guard in this 
conflict, would have taken bloody vengeance upon his 
murderers, several of whom were taken prisoners in the 
subsequent affair, but for the occurrence of an alarm 
which compelled his attention to the enemy, while the 
prisoners who were thus endangered, were sent forward 
to the main body, under Williams, and thus saved from 
the sudden wrath of the indignant cavalier. But the 
escape of the British dragoons from shai-p judgment, was 
an extremely narrow one. 

Thus, pressing forward, with little leisure allowed for 
sleep or supper, watching against surprise, and, with an 
occasional skiijmish ^vitli their pursuers, the detachment 
of Williams pursued a devious progress toward the Dan. 



HP CLOSE PURSUIT OP WILLIAMS. 157 

Four days had now elapsed, while he was engaged in 
the business of deluding his pursuer. Assuming that 
that there was no longer a sufficient motive for keeping 
in front of the enemy, he proceeded to direct his course 
at once for the river. Accordingly, he drew off his 
detachment cautiously, seeking the nearest road to the 
crossing place at Boyd's ferry. His ruse had been en- 
tirely successful. So well had he played his game, that 
he had completely deceived the British general, who, 
until this moment, never doubted that he had the whole 
American army in front. With tlie discovery of his 
error, he at once redoubled his efforts to overtake his 
foe, and, striking a by-path for this object, found him- 
self once more in the rear of Williams's detachment. 
This sharpened the appetite of the pursuers, and forced 
the wary American to the continued employment of all 
his vigilance and activity. Cornwallis sought to bring 
on a skiraiish, in order to retard the flight which he did 
not seem likely to overtake ; but Williams was not to be 
lured from the proper path of safety by any venture, 
however specious and alluring. Though frequently within 
striking distance, the rear-guard of the one army within 
gun-shot of the advance of the other, the American marks- 
men were studiously kept from the dangerous impulse 
which prompted them to use their rifles, though at the 
risk of bringing on an unequal general action. The 
stern voice of discipline prevailed to subdue the temper 
of the Americans for fight, and they sped forward, 
threatened, wherever their progress was temporarily 
checked by obstacles of road or river, by the fierce 
demonstrations of the enemy. But the collision was 
eluded ; the retreating force maintained its advance ; 
and thus, step by step, the British still pressing on their 
heels, the chase was continued, through storm and snow 
— through roads, saturated with water, chill with damp, 
14 



158 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. ||^ 

or frozen by cold. Many weary miles yet lay between 
tliem and their point of destination, when the night set- 
tled down upon their progress. But, suddenly, they be- 
held the blaze of numerous fires, which they at once felt 
sure were those of Greene's army. The first impulse 
was to wheel about upon their pursuers, and, at every 
hazard, engage them in desperate conflict, in order to 
save the division of the army which they fancied to be 
thus reposing in delusive security. But a second thought 
relieved them of their fear, and saved them from this 
desperate necessity. Williams knew his commander too 
well to leave him in any doubt as to that prudence which, 
had he continued to occupy this position, would have 
been put to shame for ever. He felt sure, as, in the 
sequel, it proved, that the fires which he saw blazing 
were those which Greene had left to burn when he re- 
sumed his march. He had put his troops in motion sev- 
eral hours before, and Williams snatched a brief interval 
of rest, which a halt of the British now afforded him, for 
sleeping upon the ground which his general had previ- 
ously occupied. 

Here the Americans slept till midnight. The British, 
having built their fires also, offered no farther present 
molestation. With the midnight, th© former were again 
in motion. They were still forty miles from the place 
of safety, and every moment became precious for secu- 
rity. The necessity was equally great with Cornwallis. 
To suffer his prey to escape him, was to endanger his 
own security, and materially to discredit his generalshij). 
The detachment of Williams was almost within his 
grasp, and, not dreaming of the boats which Greene had 
provided in advance of the necessity, he fondly hoped to 
gather both divisions, on this side the Dan, at one fell 
swoop of his superior forces. The chase became more 
desperate than ever. The energies of both parties were 



^ ESCAPE OF THE AMERICANS. 159 

Strung to the utmost, a nervous will stimulating exertion 
almost beyond the endurance of the physical capacity. 
Over ground now hard and frozen, through the imper- 
fect shadows of the night, pursuer and pursued went 
forward on their doubtful way. Day dawned, and the 
British van was once more within speaking distance of 
the American rear. And thus continued the relation- 
ship of the two bodies throughout the morning. Ex- 
haustion craved a respite. One hour, before noon, was 
stolen for refreshment, and the progress was resumed. 
Soon, however, the Americans were cheered with the 
tidings of Greene's safety, with the army, on the opposite 
side of the river. His express encountered Williams, at 
noon, with this grateful intelligence. The boats were 
in waiting for his detachment ; and the prospect of a 
long rest and certain security, was at length before them. 
It needed but one more effort, and this, with men thus 
encouraged, was easily made. They would soon link 
arms with their comrades, and this I'eflection put new 
life into their veins. The toils already overcome were 
all forgotten, in the repose which was promised them at 
last. When within fifteen miles of the Dan, a move- 
ment was made by which the greater part of the de- 
tachment was drawn off, and led, by the shortest path- 
way, to the ferry. The legion of Lee, meanwhile, keep- 
ing in front of the enemy, and occupying his attention. 
The infantry of the legion next followed the march of 
Williams, leaving the cavalry between them and the 
foe ; and the cavalry, in due season, made their appear- 
ance at the river, which had now been passed by all the 
foot. Night was already over the Dan, when the troop- 
ers, leading their horses by the rein, and forcing them 
into the river, entered the returning boats. They, too, 
were crossed over in safety, their last files ascending 
tlie northern bank of the Dan as the advance of the 



IGO MFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. ^j^ 

British rushed into sight upon the southern. The prey- 
had entirely escaped them. The river was unfordable ; 
the boats were in the hands of the Americans ; and, for 
the present, pursuit was entirely cut off. 



1^^ 



THE RIVAL ARMIES. 161 



CHAPTER XL 

The Armies watch each other. — The Mihtia collect under Pickens and 
Caswell. — Comwallis retires upon Hillsborough. — Greene recrosses the 
Dan. — Pickens and Lee operate successfully upon the British Detach- 
ments. — Sanguinary Defeat of Loyalists under Pyles, and Pursuit of 
Tarleton. 

The feelings with which Cornwallis contemjDlated the 
American army, in safety, upon the opposite banks of the 
Dan, and, for the present, totally unapproachable, may 
be better imagined than described. Without a blow be- 
ing struck, Greene had gained a most important victory; 
and the reputation of the British general, and the cause 
in which he was engaged, was destined to suffer propor- 
tionally. The remarkable chase and escape which we 
have just recorded, was one of the most impressive of 
the incidents of the war. It had riveted the attention of 
both friends and foes, from the moment of its beginning, 
on the southern side of the Catawba, to the time when it 
ended by throwing the swollen waters of the Dan between 
the opposing armies. The public mind of America, 
sensible of the condition of Greene's army, its poverty 
in clothing and munitions, its inferior numbers, and the 
vast stake which the country had in its safety, was natu- 
rally wrought up to a pitch of the most intense and eager 
anxiety. It was not expected that Greene should cope 
with his enemy at the point of the bayonet. For that, 
the wide disparity of strength and equipment, between 
the British and Americans, had rendered impossible. 
14* 



162 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 



'0 

as t^ir 



That lie should escape defeat and captivity was 
only object ; and, his doing this, under the circumstances, 
was to obtain the victory. He had led his little forces 
through a perilous extent of country, more than two 
hundred miles, in the breaking-up of winter, amid cold, 
hunger, and nakedness, over roads saturated with inces- 
sant rains, and with an eager, enterprising, well-clad 
enemy, in superior numbers, closely pressing at his heels. 
He had successfully deluded that enemy, and had baffled 
the pursuit. There was but one opinion as to his supe- 
rior generalship. Washington writes: "Your retreat 
before Cornwallis is highly applauded by all ranks, and 
reflects much honor on your military abilities." Tarle- 
ton adds to this the testimony of an enemy, when he 
says that " every measure of the Americans, during their 
march from the Catawba to Virginia, was judiciously 
designed and vigorously executed." 

The army, itself, was by no means unconscious of the 
importance of their escape, and of the superior general- 
ship by which it had been effected. Great was the 
exultation, and general the felicitation, in the American 
camp, on the night of the 15th of February. The sol- 
dier had a respite from pursuit. He was permitted, 
once more, to sleep in security. The separate divisions, 
once more united, could while away the weariness of 
the night, by comparing their several experiences during 
the iharch ; and, in full feeling of the success which had 
crowned their efforts, indulge in delightful anticipations 
of still more fortunate results, from future enterprises, 
waged under circumstances more auspicious. But, the 
care which they could mock, clung still to the side of 
their commander, and drove sleep from his pillow. We 
have numerous proofs, in the letters which he wrote this 
night, while others slept, of a spirit ill at ease — a mind 
unsatisfied, amid all its successes, that so much remained 



lBHran( 



Greene's labors and policy. 163 



le, which should be done, but, for the performance 
of which, no adequate means had been allowed him. 
The army was saved, it was true ; but, another southern 
state had been yielded to the ravages of the enemy. 
The Fabian system, which Greene pursued no less than 
Washington, might save the troops, but at the expense 
of the country. The reproach, however, could not be 
urged against the general, while the troops did not ap- 
pear ; and, borrowing the words of the great Frederick, 
Greene cried aloud, in the bitterness of his soul : " Oh ! 
that, of the thousand who remain in idleness at home, 
I had only a few hundred with me in the field." The 
flames of foreign war were spreading, and he was 
permitted only to survey them. To arrest them was the 
pregnant necessity before him, and the safety of the 
army was but temporary only. Well might care and 
anxiety drive slumber from his eyelids. His toils had 
not been less than those of the meanest soldier, and his 
respite had been even less. From the day when he had 
ridden, almost a-lone, through a hostile country, from his 
own to the camp of Morgan on the Catawba, he had never 
once undressed himself for sleep. His slumbers had 
been snatched by the wayside — imperfect moments, in 
which nature rather yielded to exhaustion, than to a desire 
for and satisfaction from repose. The days of halt, which 
were accorded to his troops for rest and recreation, were 
employed by their commander- only in newer toils and 
fresher exertions. His correspondence, written at pe- 
riods thus stolen equally from the saddle and from sleep, 
is singularly various, and in proof of a mind that ranged 
through all the departments under his care, and suffered 
the interests of none to escape his scrutiny. The pres- 
ent and future condition of the army — the state of the 
country, its resources and dangers — the character of 
the militia, and its improvement — the commissariat and 



164 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 



\t 



Other departments, — these employed him in unremitted 
labors — in continued appeals; now writing to leading 
men throughout the nation, now to the governors of the 
several states, and now to those who were specially con- 
nected with the progress of his immediate command. 
It is surprising, with what equal comprehensiveness and 
circumspection these letters were written. Nothing, 
necessary to the detail, is deficient; while the governing 
intelligence which presides over the whole, exhibits a 
capacity for generalization, which leaves nothing want- 
ing to thought. Yet, these letters may be said to have 
been written in the saddle, amid the continual confusion 
and interruptions of the camp, or in those hours of 
repose and silence, when sleep would seem to be quite 
as necessary to the general as to his troojDS. His cor- 
respondence with Patrick Henry, Jefferson, Washington, 
Steuben, and others, betrays the most indefatigable pa- 
tience and industry, mingled with an anxiety which the 
stern sense of patriotic duty, alone, enables him to sub- 
due. He felt that his present respite was temporary; 
that the game must be quickly renewed ; that, with the 
falling of the waters of the Dan, the British would again 
resume the pursuit ; and that he must, once more, adopt 
the humiliating necessity of farther flight, unless he could 
secure seasonable reinforcements. To this object, then, 
he addressed himself; and, consulting all the difficulties 
of his situation, calculated, with intense application, the 
problem of chances, in regard to his own and the move- 
ments of his enemy. With reinforcements, the British 
general was almost in his grasp. But, could he rely on 
the delusive promises which had been so often, and so 
fruitlessly, made him ] He had been fed on promises, 
decrees, and resolutions ; and his faith was grievously 
shaken in those assurances of Congresses and governors, 
which had so fi;equently held 



■%r 



THE OPPOSING ARMIES. 165 

" The word of promise to his ear, 
To break it to his hope." 

He was told that the Virginians and North-Carolinians 
were about to pour in and fill his ranks, and that Steu- 
ben was hurrying on a body of recruits for the Virginia 
regiments ; but days and weeks might elapse before 
these could reach headquarters, and the time for ac- 
tion and successful operations was momentarily escaping 
him. The river, on the 16th, it was announced, was 
rapidly falling. This added to Greene's perplexities ; it 
compelled him to determine quickly. The fords were 
numerous at low stages of the water, and a farther 
retreat aj)peared inevitable. In anticipation of this ne- 
cessity, the baggage of the American army was sent for- 
ward to Halifax, and orders were given to prepare means 
for making good the passage of the river Staunton. 
The troops were ordered to hold themselves in readiness 
for marching, as soon as the necessity became imperative 
for a farther retreat. These arrangements made, the 
two armies remained in tranquillity, watching the river 
and each other. 

It was, to Greene, the most tantalizing thing in the 
world, that, with the British fairly in his clutches, he had 
not the power to contract his folds upon them. The 
situation of Cornwallis, had the American force been in 
the situation to take advantage of it, was perilous in the 
extreme. The British general, in his avidity after his 
prey, had pursued so far, as to make his advance and 
retreat equally hazardous. He had withdrawn himself 
to a distance from his garrisons, and was without stores 
or magazines. His hope lay in his own audacity, energy, 
and the errors of his wily opponent. Greene felt this, 
and his watchfulness was redoubled. Still, he had hopes 
of something better than being merely able to elude his 
pursuer. Could he receive his recruits and supplies in 



166 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 






season, it might be possible to end the war by the 
ture of a second British army. But this prospect could 
depend only on the reinforcements promised him. Small 
as was the force which he had, the severe marches which 
he had been compelled to take, had still farther lessened 
its numbers, and impaired its efficiency. It was still 
winter, and the clothing of his hest-cl^d men was suitable 
only for the summer. Many were still naked. The 
effect of this condition may be seen from the returns of 
the Maryland line, one of the noblest bodies of troops 
which the war had seen. With eight hundred and sixty- 
one fit for duty, two hundred and seventy-four were in 
the hospitals. The whole force in camp, fit for duty, on 
the 17th, was but one thousand and seventy-eight infan- 
try, sixty-four artillery, one hundred and seventy-six 
cavalry, legionary infantry one hundred and twelve, and 
the militia of Pickens one hundred and fifty in number. 
" How is it possible," Greene asks, " for an army circum- 
stanced like ours, to make head against one organized 
and equipped like that of Cornwallis 1" 

But the hopes brightened with delay. At the very 
moment when Greene was apprehensive that he should 
be forced to resume the retreat, he had intelligence of a 
considerable increase to the militia force under Pickens. 
The loiter had succeeded in raising a body of seven hun- 
dred men, and was now approaching the enemy's left. 
General Caswell, at the same time, with another body of 
militia, was making a similar demonstration on the 
opposite flank of the British. These movements disqui- 
eted Cornwallis. They no longer left him the option 
of pursuit. The atmosphere was not sufficiently friendly 
for the health of his troops, and he prepared to change 
the air. Greene waited for this movement only to recross 
the river. The waving of a handkerchief from a friendly 
female, under cover of the bank, apprized the Americans 



tHWk 



BRITISH MARCH TO HILLSBOROUGH. 167 



le British were under march. As soon as this 
signal was made, the army of Greene was put in motion. 
A small detachment of picked men, under Major Bur- 
net, led the way across the river, and prepared to hang 
upon the enemy's skirts^ and report their movements. 
They were followed by Lee, with his legion, whose 
instructions were to harass their progress, and snatch 
every opportunity for cutting off their pickets and smaller 
parties. As yet, the main body of the army did not fol- 
low. There were reasons why it should remain in 
reserve, particularly as the destination of Cornwallis was 
still unknown. Apprehensions were felt for the safety of 
Halifax, on the Roanoke, a place combining numerous 
advantages, of such a character as to determine the 
American general to risk a battle in its defence. To 
strengthen this position, Kosciuzko had been already 
despatched, as an engineer, to superintend, the construc- 
tion of fortifications ; and the eye of Greene was fixed 
upon this point, as one which, in the possession of the 
enemy, would give him a position which might equally 
control the Carolinas and Virginia. To prevent this, at 
all hazards, it became important that he should be in a 
situation to fly to the defence of the place at the first 
appearance of danger. 

But, Cornwallis was not slow in the development of 
his game. His encampment on the Dan was broken up 
on the 18th of February. At first, his course left it 
doubtful whether he meant to cross the river at one of 
the upper ferries, in order to continue his attempt upon 
the main army of Greene, or to strike a blow at the 
militia force of Pickens. As he continued to advance, 
the magazines on the Roanoke were supposed to be 
threatened. But, soon, all doubts were ended, as he 
suddenly wheeled about, turning his back upon the Dan, 
and marching, direct, to Hillsborough. Here he planted 




168 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

the royal standard, and issued a proclamation to all 
good and faithful subjects to repair to it. The region 
was, professedly, a loyal one ; and large calculations 
might, reasonably, be made upon the alacrity with which 
this summons would be obeyed. At first, the prospect 
was very encouraging of a large accession to his num- 
bers. His pursuit of Greene, his presence on the spot 
in force, both conspired to stimulate the tories, and de- 
press and discourage the whigs. Seven companies of 
the former were reported, in one day, as in course of 
organization. For three days, the promise continued of 
this character ; but, suddenly, these hopeful auxiliaries 
disappeared, and their absence was sufficiently accounted 
for by the tidings that Greene was again on the southern 
bank of the Dan, while Pickens and Lee were, already, 
engaged in reconnoitring the camp of the British. It 
was with increased bitterness that Cornwallis felt his 
disappointment and perceived his danger. It was on 
this occasion that he wrote to the ministry, that he was 
" surrounded by timid friends and inveterate enemies." 
It was now his necessity to fight with Green, if possible* 
In no other way could he hope to dissipate his dan- 
gers, and break through the meshes by which he was 
environed. 

The Americans had received accessions of force from 
several quarters. He had suffered none of the move- 
ments of Cornwallis to escape him. At first, supposing 
that the British general aimed to escape to the coast by 
Wilmington, he determined to throw himself across his 
path, and delay his progress, until the final issue could 
be brought about under favorable auspices. " If we can 
delay Cornwallis for a day or two," is his language, " he 
must be ruined." Pickens and Lee were pushed for- 
ward with the utmost rapidity — the legion of the latter 
being strengthened by a couple of companies of Mary- 



^^ffie 



PARTISAN MOVEMENTS. 169 



ers. They were to hang upon his rear, and harass 
him with all their energies ; and better chieftains for 
such a purpose could not have been chosen 

But Cornwallis was not the soldier to retreat while the 
sword could possibly cut asunder the web which sur- 
rounded him. It was soon ascertained that he was in 
no hurry to depart; and Greene's apprehensions were 
greatly excited by the reported progress which the British 
general was making in the enrolment of the tories about 
his standard. These tidings contributed to determine 
him upon recrossing the Dan. To close around Corn- 
wallis, to cut off his supplies, prevent a general rising of 
the loyalists, and cut them up in detail, before they could 
reach the royal army, was the policy of the American 
commander. His light troops were everywhere set in 
motion for these objects. The disposition of Pickens and 
Lee had already brought them within striking distance 
of the British camp ; — Otho Williams was again in the 
field, with the excellent legion which he had so lately led 
in successful retreat; — Stevens, with a thousand volun- 
teers, had returned from Virginia ; — Butler was in mo- 
tion, with a considerable body of North-Carolinians; — 
and a brisk business was soon begun by these separate 
detachments, having for their object the clipping of the 
British claws, and such a contraction of their powers, as 
to compel their final surrender or annihilation. 

It was on the 20th of February that Cornwallis erected 
his standard at Hillsborough. On the 23d, Greene re- 
crossed the Dan with his whole army. The day before 
this, a detachment from Pickens's command, led by 
Colonel M'Call, had surprised and carried off" a British 
picket, only two miles from the royal camp. This was 
an audacity too great to be endured, and Tarleton was 
despatched, with a strong force of horse and foot, to keep 
the Americans within bounds, and afford all encourage- 
15 



170 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 



# 



ment to the rising loyalists. Meantime, Pickens "had 
formed a junction with Lee, and had been advised of 
Tarleton's expedition. This was so much grist to their 
mill. They determined to have it so. With dawn they 
set forth in search of the British legion. Tarleton, with 
his usual devastating ferocity, had sufficiently traced out 
his route for the pursuers. They had but to follow his 
trail of fire — the smoking habitations of the whigs 
marking, for many miles, his progress. So rapid was the 
pursuit of the Americans, that, by noon, they were within 
three miles of the place where Tarleton had stopped to 
dine. Unconscious of their proximity, he had moved 
away in season, and had j^assed the Haw at the first conve- 
nient ford. It was while rapidly pressing forward in the 
pursuit, hoping that he might be overtaken before night, 
that the path of the Americans was suddenly crossed by 
a strong party of tories, under Colonel Pyles. These 
were dispersed, but not without great slaughter, in con- 
sequence of a mistake of the unfortunate tones, who con- 
founded Lee's with Tarleton's legion, and only com- 
menced firing at a moment when the effort was fruitless 
for defence, and served only to provoke the fury of the 
militia. The delay was a serious hinderance to the pur- 
suit of Tarleton, It brought on darkness. Neverthe- 
less, Pickens resolved not to rest until he had thrown 
himself between the British dragoons and certain detach- 
ments of whig militia under Colonel Preston and others, 
which Tarleton was aiming to cut off. It was fortu- 
nate that he adopted this resolution, as he succeeded that 
night in uniting Preston's and the other bodies of mili- 
tia with his own force, adding to its strength, and saving 
them from the edge of Tarleton's sabre. The force of 
Pickens, increased by these auxiliaries, was now very 
decidedly superior to that of Tarleton. It consisted of 
two hundred and fifty excellent bayonets, three hundred 



% 



ATTEMPTS UPON TARLETON. 171 



rnilitia marksmen, and the command of Preston, three 
hundred more. The cavahy of M'Call and Lee, though 
less in numbers than that of Tarleton, was better mount- 
ed, and of far better materiaL The command of Tarle- 
ton composed all the cavalry of the British army, two 
hundred and fifty infantry, and two pieces of artillery. 
Could the Americans but overtake and overcome this 
detachment, the army of Cornwallis was at their mercy. 
Deprived of his cavalry, and of so large a portion 
of his infantry, he must have sought safety in flight; 
and the result of such an attempt, in a country swarm- 
ing with mounted militia, need not be matter of doubt or 
speculation. 

The fate of Cornwallis lay in other hands, however those 
of Greene may have paved the way for it. Tarleton, him- 
self, never dreamed of the enemy that was at his heels. 
He had actually drawn up his men at midnight, arrang- 
ing for the capture of Preston and his volunteers. But 
Cornwallis was more apprehensive, and, consequently 
more vigilant. He had received advices of the advance 
of the American army, and trembled for the fate of the 
detachment in the hands of his dragoon. He dreaded 
lest another affair like that at the Cowpens should utterly 
ruin him, and courier after courier, to the number of 
three, was despatched by the British commander in pur- 
suit of Tarleton, apprizing him of his danger, and recal- 
ling him instantly to camp. The British colonel obeyed, 
and with such equal caution and precipitation, that he 
had gained nearly two hours of his march before his 
movement was discovered by the scouts of the Ameri- 
cans. With the first intimatitJn of his departure, Pick- 
ens was on the alert. His detachment was set in motion, 
though at midnight, and the pursuit was instantly begun. 
So dark was the night, when this movement was made, 
that the troops were obliged to employ torches of light- 



172 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. ^MK 

wood (resinous pine) to light them on their progress. 
Yet so earnest was the pursuit, that, when the first files 
of the Americans reached the hanks of the Haw, the 
rear-guard of the enemy was just ascending the heights 
of the opposite shore. Here the pursuit was arrested. 
The British colonel, planting his artillery in a position to 
command the ford, and occupying such a position with 
his infantry as to give his cannon the best support, ren- 
dered the passage quite too hazardous to be attempted. 
The Americans were without artillery. To attempt the 
passage at another ford would be only to afford the 
enemy such an advantage in the race as no subsequent 
efforts could overcome ; at all events, not before he had 
been reinforced by support from the British camp. And 
thus it was, that the prey was snatched from the grasp of 
the American general almost at the very moment when 
his fingers were about to close upon it. But the expe- 
dition had proved of the greatest uses. The recruits of 
the whig militia had been saved from disaster, their friends 
had been encouraged, while the tory force under Pyles, 
four hundred in number, had been cut to pieces, and the 
loyalists disheartened by a disaster so unexpected, and a 
punishment so sanguinary. 



AMERICAN POLICY. 173 



CHAPTER XIL 

Strategies of the two AiTaies. — Cornwallis surrounded by the Partisans. 
— Their Activity and Audacity. — He attempts to elude them, and 
cut Greene off from his Detachments. — He pursues Williams, who 
escapes him. — Cornwallis retires, and Greene prepares for Action. 

The operations of Pickens and Lee, though only in 
part successful, were yet productive of the happiest 
results, particularly in discouraging the loyalists from 
taking the field. They afforded, thus, an auspicious 
beginning of that new enterprise, on the part of the com- 
mander of the American forces, which had prompted 
him to recross the Dan. Greene, meanwhile, lost no 
time in making himself ready for the field. Inferior 
still, in strength, to his adversary, and sadly wanting in 
equipments, he felt the necessity of incurring a risk in 
the endeavor to prevent Cornwallis from utterly over- 
running the " old north state," as he had overrun South 
Carolina. Though not in sufficient strength to measure 
weapons with the British general, it was still in his power 
to defeat his leading objects, by cutting off his detach- 
ments, arresting the proceedings of the disaffected, and 
giving encouragement, by his activity and presence, to 
those who were friendly to the whig cause. For these 
purposes, he was particularly well provided in the proper 
officers. With Pickens to conduct the militia riflemen ; 
with Lee to guide the impetuous movements of the 
legion ; with Williams to show himself, ubiquitously, 
with his active and veteran light infantry, — he was 
15* 



174 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. ^ 

possessed of so many wings, rapidly wheeling at every 
movement of the enemy, harassing him in his enterprises, 
and keeping him, for ever, in a feverish state of doubt 
and insecurity. These able leaders were all kept well- 
informed of the desires of their commander. Attended 
only by a small escort of Washington's dragoons, Greene 
made his way across the country, to the separate camps 
of these several detachments, earnestly, but affection- 
ately, counselling with them on his and their future prog- 
ress. From the wigwam of green bushes that formed 
the shelter of Pickens and Lee, he sped to the camp of 
Williams, suffering nothing to escape his observation in 
regard to their common enterprise. Hard was the 
hourly toil which this sort of progress imposed upon 
him and them. Sorry were the fare and shelter in the 
forest tent of Pickens ; and the two generals, after long 
consultation, wrapped in their cloaks, were compelled to 
seek for the necessary warmth, and snatch a brief term 
of repose, in the folds of a single blanket. The object 
of Greene in this hazardous visit, in which he narrowly 
escaped contact with the legion of Tarleton, was to 
obtain information, to prepare his partisans for the antici- 
pated escape of Cornwallis, and to urge them to the 
suppression of the loyalists who had appointed the forks 
of the Haw and Deep rivers as their place of rendez- 
vous. But, soon satisfied that Cornwallis no longer con- 
templated flight — that he had deluded himself with the 
idea that the state was fairly in his power — and that 
his army would be sufficiently strengthened against the 
Americans, by his tory recruits, to enable him to make a 
stand, and seek once more the final issue, — Greene saw 
that nothing, now, remained to be done, but to prepare 
for the decisive struggle. He proceeded, therefore, to 
hasten on his reinforcements, occupying, meanwhile, 
with the main army, such a position as would best enable 



CORNWALLIS SEEKS GREENE. 175 

him to cover their concentration, and cut off the commu- 
nication of the enemy with the upper country. With 
these views, the army, having crossed the Dan, was 
marched toward the head-waters of the Haw, on the 
route to Guilford. To keep the field between the Haw 
and the Dan, was a matter of some difficulty; but the 
very hazard of the service had its recommendation, as it 
afforded to the volunteers that active employment and 
constant exercise, which can alone satisfy the eager and 
impetuous nature, which the unperforming life of the 
camp would only discourage and disgust. The demon- 
stration had its uses for other reasons. It encouraged, 
with a show of confidence and strength, the more tim- 
orous friends of the cause throughout the country, and 
impressed upon its enemies a sense of respect, which, 
necessarily, exaggerated the strength of the Americans, 
and made them doubtful of their own. The audacity 
and activity of the light troops of Greene's army, under 
their accomplished leaders, constituted another guaranty 
for his security. We have had a sample of their uses, 
in beating up the quarters of the enemy, cutting off their 
pickets and detachments, preventing their supplies, and 
quelling the spirit of their allies. With such partisan 
officers, the wings and the eyes of the army, Greene's 
own sagacity, and his knowledge of the character of 
Cornwallis, enabled him to do the rest. The coolness, 
forethought, and circumspection of the one, even with 
inferior forces, were well opposed to, and a sufficient 
match for, the imperious will, impetuous haste, and san- 
guine impulse of the other. 

As soon as Tarleton had rejoined the royal army, 
Cornwallis prepared for active operations. He pene- 
trated the objects of Greene, and felt the necessity of 
counteracting them, if possible. With this view, he 
abandoned Hillsborough on the 26th of February, and 



176 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. 

threw himself across the Haw, taking post near Alemaiice 
creek, one of the principal tributaries of that river. This 
movement had for its object to cut Greene off from the 
upper country, to enable the British troops to cover the 
uprising of the loyalists, and to forage in a region, the 
resources of which were, comparatively, abundant. The 
design was skilfully conceived, and reduced the American 
general to three alternatives : he might either offer bat- 
tle to an antagonist who wished nothing better; once 
more retreat across the Dan, and leave the state to the 
invader ; or advance still farther on the route, by Guil- 
ford, toward Salisbury. In other words, the aim of 
Cornwallis was to compel his adversary to fly or fight ; 
and the policy of Greene was to avoid either necessity. 
It was a peculiar game to play, and required all the skill 
of the strategist. It was in this department of war that 
Greene's particular merit lay. He was thoroughly sen- 
sible of the truth, that he can be no general whom the 
enemy can force to fight at pleasure ; and, concentrating 
all his resources upon the object before him, a series of 
manoeuvres followed, which declared, more impressively 
than ever, the extent of his abilities, and the strength and 
confidence with which he managed them. To keep 
steadily in mind the necessity of covering his own rein- 
forcements, preventing those of the enemy, and saving 
himself from disaster, was the great purpose which 
governed every movement in his progress, and counselled 
every enterprise. 

CornwalHs was not insensible to the merits of his 
enemy, and his own necessities. His mind seemed to 
rise to the level of his exigencies. His chief object 
seems to have been to persuade the attention of the Amer- 
ican commander in one direction, while he decoyed his 
reinforcements within striking distance in another. In 
doing this, he had to keep in mind the necessity of never 



177 

being too remote from his own stores at Wilmington, 
which the growing distress of his own army had now 
begun to render doubly important to his interests. 
Greene, meanwhile, kept even pace with the march of 
the British general. Vigilance and activity were his 
prevailing dictates. Carefully did he avoid every risk 
which might bring on a general action ; and his arrange- 
ments never failed to contemplate an open avenue, either 
for advance or retreat. He thus armed himself against 
every manoeuvre of his enemy ; but no labor could have 
been more exhausting, as no game could be more full of 
perplexity and doubt. Thus counselled, he pressed for- 
ward, and crossed the Haw, near its source, and chose 
for the scene of operations, the ground which lies be- 
tween Troublesome creek and Reedy fork. 

Here were Greene's headquarters, but he was in no 
circumstances to be fettered by an arbitrary choice of 
position. His place was changed nightly, and the ca- 
pricious front which he displayed, served the double 
purpose of not only leaving the enemy uncertain of 
his position, but of his numbers. His detachments, 
strengthened at his own expense, were active in corre- 
spondence with their strength. His light troops were 
continually hovering about the enemy, darting upon his 
foraging-parties, cutting off his supplies and intelligence, 
beating up his quarters, vexing his march, and exhaust- 
ing him, by incessant provocations to fruitless service. 
In this occupation, it is difficult to say which of the par- 
tisans was most conspicuous. Williams, Pickens, Lee, 
and Washington, equally distinguished themselves upon 
the flanks, and in the fi'ont, of the enemy. The former, 
maintaining always a proper position for supporting the 
detachments, was equally careful to be sufficiently near 
to co-operate, when necessary, with the main army. 
Joined by Pickens, while manoeuvring in the vicinity 



178 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. 

of the Haw, the two bodies now threw themselves in 
front of the enemy, one on each side of the Alemance 
creek. Their force, strengthened by large accessions of 
militia, had become so considerable, that, on one occa- 
sion, they seriously meditated a combined attack upon 
the British general. Such had been the secresy and 
celerity of their movements, that he had been utterly 
bewildered by them. He could form no idea of their 
numbers, and was only conscious of their presence, by 
feeling them — in military language — throughout the 
night. That these two leaders did not make their 
attack, arose from counsels to a delay for a more auspi- 
cious moment, which, unhappily, did not again occur. 

Thus operating, at once in front, flank, and rear, 
doubling upon their grounds daily, like a fox, now 
approaching and now retiring, but never so far as to 
relieve their adversary's detachments from a wholesome 
fear of danger, the several divisions of Grreene's army 
contrived still to keep the region into which he had been 
bold enough to penetrate. No will-of-the-wisp ever sport- 
ed more capriciously with the benighted traveller, than 
these partisans with the British general. He knew not 
in what quarter to look for the foe, whom, but the last 
night, he had felt in this — knew not where to appre- 
hend the danger to-night, which had threatened him, 
e'qually, on all quarters, the night before. Every source 
of intelligence seemed to be cut off. His horizon was 
bounded to a span. His cavalry seemed adventurous 
no longer. The wondrous energy and success of Tarle- 
ton were suddenly at an end ; and, as for the anxious 
tories, lately as fussy and full of exercise as an over- 
flowing hive about to send out its swarms, they dreaded 
to make the slightest humming, which should declare 
their vitality, lest it should waken sharp echoes from the 
sabres of Washington, or the fatal rifles of Pickens. 



CORNWALLIS'S MOVEMENTS. 179 

CoiTiwallis was naturally anxious to relieve himself 
of such troublesome attendants. His position was be- 
coming exceedingly delicate and doubtful. His skill, 
though considerable, had hitherto been unavailing. It 
was in vain that he urged the genius of Tarleton into 
entei-prise. A single brush of that desperate dragoon 
with the legion infantry, gave him no encouragement to 
press his fortunes, and suggested additional reasons to 
Cornwallis, for an effort of deeper policy, and more 
decisive endeavor, than had yet been made. Circum- 
stances seemed to favor his desires. He had succeeded 
in procuring some certain intelligence of these detach- 
ments of the Americans, whose ubiquitous career had 
been so distressing to his forces. Like some great ani- 
mal, assailed by inferior forces, which only escape his 
rage in consequence of their superior agility, he affected 
to sleep in his position. For six days he remained 
almost quiet on the Alemance, with an occasional dem- 
onstration on the road to Cross creek. His quiet was 
meant to lull the Americans into rtiomentary security ; 
his demonstrations in the direction of Cross creek, to 
divert their attention from his true object. He almost 
succeeded in this ruse. G-reene, meanwhile, with the 
main army, lay at Boyd's ferry, fifteen miles from the 
camp of Cornwallis. Williams was more within his 
reach, and, on the night of the 6th of March, lay but a 
few miles off, on the left of the enemy. Could the 
British general succeed in surprising Williams, or in 
darting by him, so as to reach the High Rock ford, in 
advance of Greene, then would the latter be most 
effectually separated from his detachments, and be com- 
pelled to leave them to their fate, or hazard his whole 
army in a battle, to secure the junction with them. 
Suddenly, then, in the hope of achieving this object, 
Cornwallis set his army in motion early on the morning 



180 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

of the 6th. His movements, though unanticipated, were 
not wholly unprepared for. He did not succeed in his 
surprise of Williams ; who, keeping good watch, dis- 
covered his march when he was yet two miles oif, and 
instantly set his detachment in motion. His course, like 
that of Cornwallis, was for Wetzel's mills, across the 
Reedy Fork. Throwing himself in front of his enemy, 
he despatched advices to Greene of the threatened dan- 
ger, and then proceeded to strain every nerve to attain 
the pass by which alone could he unite his force with 
that of his superior. Throwing out light flanking parties, 
under Colonels Preston and Campbell, to annoy the ad- 
vance of the enemy, he succeeded in keeping the start 
which he had had at the beginning, and the race continued, 
with great spirit, until the passage of the ford, at Wet- 
zel's mills, was effected. Drawn up on the opposite bank 
of the stream, they were prepared to dispute the farther 
progress of the British, whose advance, under Tarleton, 
soon made its appearance, but, awed by the presence of 
the American cavalry under Washington and Lee, they 
forbore to attempt the passage. The detachment under 
Preston engaged the enemy in a smart skirmish, the 
advantages of which enured to the Americans. A few 
prisoners were taken on both sides. Here, on the east 
bank of the Haw river, Williams became informed of 
the true purpose of the British general. Greene was 
apprized of it in season; and though Cornwallis had 
stolen a march on Williams, and had very adroitly 
managed his enterprise, he failed entirely to secure his 
prey, when almost within his grasp. A series of well- 
concerted movements on the part of Greene, and the 
leaders of his detachments, were admirably successful ; 
and, when the British general reached the point at 
which he expected to intercept his adversary — com- 
pelling him either to abandon his advancing reinforce- 



CORNWALLIS FOREGOES PURSUIT. 181 

ments, or forcing him to an action in their defence — he 
had the mortification to find that the Americans had 
gained the opposite bank of the river, where, both 
divisions of their army being united, they could safely 
oppose his passage across the stream, and be secure of 
the junction with their rapidly-ajjproaching reinforce- 
ments. 

This was the last contest of skill between the rival 
cajDtains. Cornwallis, at length, despaired of outgen- 
eralling his antagonist. His only hope, now, lay in 
suffering him to accumulate his forces in sufficient 
strength to engage boldly in the struggle, where the 
arbiter should be the sword. Returning sullenly from 
the pursuit, he took post at Bell's mills, on Deep river, 
while Greene, in his camp on Troublesome creek, gave 
his troops a brief respite, while waiting the arrival of 
his Virginia corps and militia. A few days enabled 
these to make their appearance, bringing with them 
stores and supplies, which were, of all things, most 
needed by the suffering army. The North Carolina 
militia began to pour in, while detached parties of 
militia and volunteers, from time to time, added to the 
bulk of the army, so as to swell its numbers to a com- 
plement of more than four thousand men. With these, 
Greene was superior to his adversary. Fifteen hundred 
of these troops were regulars. A considerable body 
had been well-trained, and had enjoyed much valuable 
experience in the field. They were such as could be 
relied upon, as well for steadfastness as courage. His 
volunteers and militia were by no means wanting in 
resolution and spirit. Their deficiencies lay wholly in 
their want of training. Unaccustomed to long endu- 
rance in the field, to concerted action, to rapid move- 
ments, and subjection to discipline, their efficiency lay 
rather in their quick employment in actual conflict, 
16 



182 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

than in the more slow and tedious, but not less impor- 
tant duties of marching, manoeuvring, and rapid evolu- 
tion. To employ these sufficiently, w^ho constituted so 
large a part of his army — to confirm the spirit of his 
troops — to raise that of the people, to respond to the call 
of public opinion, which now began loudly to demand a 
battle — Greene prepared to afford his adversary the 
opportunity which the latter had appeared so long and so 
earnestly to seek. The forces of Cornwallis did not 
number more than two thirds of his own ; but they 
were all picked soldiers, men of tried courage, of long 
experience in the field, and admirable training. In 
numbers, Greene was the superior to Cornwallis, but far 
his inferior in discipline and equijDment ; and the for- 
mer did not regard the approaching issue with so much 
confidence as hope. He was in a measure compelled to 
seek the fight. He could expect no more regulars, and 
he was to employ and encourage the militia. The 
hopes of the British rested upon their loyalist auxili- 
aries, and these were best quieted by a conflict, in 
which, even if successful, the British army should be 
greatly crippled and disorganized. A few days devoted 
to the drilling of his militia, calling in and dissolving his 
detachments, reviewing and concentrating his strength, 
and making the other needful preparations, and Greene 
advanced to Guilford Courthouse, taking post, on the 
14th March, 1781, within twelve miles of the enemy. 
To approach within this distance to an enemy is a mili- 
tary challenge. Its purport was understood; nor was 
Cornwallis unwilling for the encounter. Both armies 
accordingly prepared themselves for action. 



THE FIELD OP GUILFORD. ^ 183 



CHAPTER XIII. 

The Battle of Guilford. — Its Vicissitudes. — Duel between Colonel Stuart 
and Captain Smith. — Slaughter among the Guards. — Retreat of the 
Americans. 

The scene of battle on the present occasion, had long 
before attracted the military eye of Greene for this very 
purpose. He had noted its susceptibilities, on his first 
retreat from the Yadkin to the Dan, particularly for the 
employment of irregular troops, in which an undisci- 
plined militia, with certain advantages derived from the 
inequalities of the surface of the field, might success- 
fully be brought to oppose the steadier onset of a vete- 
ran enemy. The country was, in fact, little better than 
a wilderness. The settlements were few, and the unbro- 
ken forest spread itself on every hand, leaving but a few 
openings here and there, indicative of the mere dawn of 
cultivation. The road wound its way between thick 
masses of forest and undergrowth. The defile was nar- 
row ; dense coverts of copse and brush shadowed it on 
all hands and with few open intervals ; while the ground, 
ascending gradually, with occasional undulations, from 
hill to hill, conducted finally to the superior eminence, 
which was occupied by the courthouse. With the 
ascent of these hills, the road begins to enlarge and 
expand. The brushwood begins to disappear ; open 
fields, and small clearings, let in the more frequent light ; 
while the fences of the farmer, which the approaching 
armies had not yet torn away, were standing in proof of 
the humble first beginnings of art, in its conflict with 



184 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. 

nature. These fields were mostly abandoned. A stunted 
growth, such as naturally occurs in like cases, had be- 
gun to appear, but not in such degree as to offer obstruc- 
tion to the progress of troops in battle. The ascent of 
the ground was gradual, sloping gently from the court- 
house, and subsiding at last, into a rivulet, which wound 
its way along the edges of a piece of swamp or bottom- 
land. The open tracts were divided by a dense mass of 
forest, which concealed them from each other. The 
space immediately about the courthouse was partly 
sheltered by a growth of saplings, which also formed a 
partial border for the high-road to Salisbury. Occasional 
ravines, which traversed the open grounds, afforded ad- 
ditional strength to the position, and contributed to rec- 
ommend the spot to the eye of the American commander. 
He had reached the field in sufficient season to examine 
and to choose his ground, to arrange the order of battle, 
complete his preparations, and give his troops an en- 
couraging night's rest. 

With the dawn of the 15th he was stirring, and full 
of anxious expectation. He had no reason to doubt that 
he would be sought by his enemy. The day opened 
brightly, and with pleasant auspices. The troops were 
in the best of spirits ; and Greene, at length, congratu- 
lated himself on the prospect of a victory, or, at all 
events, a struggle, such as should confirm the hope of 
his soldiers, and answer the expectations of the country. 
His force of regulars and militia-infantry consisted of 
four thousand two hundred and forty-three men. Of 
these, two thousand seven hundred and fifty-three were 
militia. Of his whole army, something less than two 
regiments had ever been in battle. It was in this lack 
of discipline and experience, among the Americans, that 
the inferiority of the British in numbers was more than 
equalized. The force under Cornwallis had been rated, 



PREPARATIONS FOR BATTLE. 185 

and with every apparent probability, at about three 
thousand men. It certainly could not have been less 
than two thousand five Imudi-ed, not including cavalry. 
These were all disciplined troops, accustomed to victory, 
and doubly urged, at the present time, by their necessi- 
ties no less than their desires, to seek it with the most 
desperate earnestness and valor. 

Early in the morning a detachment under Lee, con- 
sisting of his legion and a body of riflemen, had been 
sent out to reconnoitre. They encountered the British 
advance, under Tarleton, and engaged it with spirit and 
success. But, feeling that they had to do with the van 
of an army, they withdrew to the main body, giving due 
notice of the approaching conflict. Greene at once made 
his preparations. His officers were soon in station, and 
his troops arrayed for battle. His army was drawn out 
in three separate lines, presenting so many successive 
barriers to the assault of the enemy. The first of these, 
consisting of the North Carolina militia, one thousand 
in number, under the command of Generals Eaton and 
Butler, were placed upon the skirts of a wood at right 
angles with the road upon which the enemy was ap- 
proaching. In front of them stretched a long and nar- 
row cornfield, whose crumbling fences of rail afforded 
rather a show of protection and shelter than any positive 
defence. It was supposed that a few rounds might be 
delivered under their cover before the defenders were 
compelled to retire under the push of the bayonet. The 
weapons of this line were mostly rifles. Practised 
marksmen, from habitual exercise, it wanted but steadi- 
ness of nerve to make their bullets tell. Unfortunately, 
they had not only never been in battle, but they had 
never been subje.ct to the severe mechanism of that drill 
and discipline which, in military training, accomplishes 
quite as much. In the road, in advance of this line, 
16* 



186 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

were placed a couple of six-pounders, under Captain 
Singleton. On the right of this line, extending behind 
the west side of the open fields, obliquely toward a 
swamp, was a covering party under Colonel Washing- 
ton, consisting of Kirkwood's Delawares, eighty in num- 
ber, and a battalion of two hundred riflemen under Colo- 
nel Lynch. Washington's cavalry was drawn up in the 
woods at a little distance. The left of the line was cov- 
ered by a party under Colonel Lee, consisting of the 
legion-infantry, and a detachment of riflemen under 
Colonel Campbell, two hundred and fifty in all. Lee's 
cavalry held a corresponding post on the extreme left, 
with Washington's on the right. 

The second line of the Americans was drawn up 
about three hundred yards behind the first, and under 
shelter of the woods. This line was formed of Virginia 
militia, raw troops also, but they were fortunate in being 
led by officers who had been in the continental army, and 
possessed considerable experience in the field. The line 
was commanded by Generals Stevens and Lawson. The 
former, whose experience in militia was considerable, and 
who had suffered extreme mortification by their miscon- 
duct on a previous occasion, adopted a stern and sharp rem- 
edy against their timidity in future. He stationed, in the 
rear of his brigade, a line of sentinels, picked men upon 
whom he could rely, whose instructions were to shoot 
down any individual who broke the ranks. The remedy 
has usually been found unfailing against the infirmity it 
seeks to cure. This line, as well as the first, crossed and 
completely covered the road. 

The third and last line of the Americans consisted of 
continentals, under the command of G-enerals Huger and 
Williams. It was composed of the brigades of Mary- 
land and Virginia, the former under Williams, the latter 
under Huger. This line was stationed about three hun- 



APPROACH OF THE BRITISH. 187 

dreS. yards in the rear of the second ; the Maryland 
brigade, on the right, fronting the southwest ; the Vir- 
ginians, in regard to the peculiar formation of the hill, 
facing southeastwardly. Between the right of the one 
line and the left of the other, the angle was occupied by 
two pieces of artillery. The Virginia line consisted of 
two regiments, led by Colonels Greene and Rudford; 
the Maryland of two also, under Colonels Ford and 
Gunby. That of Gunby was the only veteran regi- 
ment. Two roads, directly in the rear of the Ameri- 
cans, left avenues for retreat, a necessity which, consid- 
ering the peculiar objects of General Greene, was not, 
certainly, a humiliating one. His game was to cripple 
the enemy by his light troops, if possible, and insure their 
safety in retreat, by the intervention of his regulars. His 
third line was, in fact, his only reserve, and it commanded 
both the roads by which to secure the escape of the 
fugitives, in the event of disaster. No doubt the ar- 
rangement was one of many advantages ; but we are 
half inclined to doubt the policy which exposes a militia 
wholly inexperienced and untried, to the first shock of 
battle, when, the judicious intermixture with them of 
select bodies of regulars, would fortify their courage 
by example, and sustain them with firmness under 
pressure. 

The appearance of the van of the British army, at 
about 1 o'clock in the day, drew upon them the thunders 
from Singleton's two pieces in advance. The response 
was quickly made by the British artillery, from an 
eminence which commanded the road, over the heads of 
their own columns. "Watching his opportunity in the 
intervals of the fire, Cornwallis rapidly pushed his sec 
tions across the defile, displaying them, as they severally 
passed, according to arrangement, under cover of an 
intervening wood. The right of the British was com- 



188 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. 

manded by General Leslie, the left by Colonel Webster. 
The troops forming the line, consisted of the Hessian 
regiment of Boze, the 71st, the 23d, and the 33d regi- 
ments, in succession. The first battalion of the guards 
was drawn up, as a support to that wing in the rear of 
the right. The second, with the grenadiers of the same 
corps, under Brigadier-General O'Hara, acted as the 
support of the left. The Yagers and light infantry of 
the guards, when the line was put in motion for the 
assault, attached themselves to the 33d regiment. Tarle- 
ton's cavalry was held in reserve, and kept pace, under 
cover of the wood, with the progress of the artillery, 
which could only advance upon the open road. 

These aiTangements completed, the British pushed on 
to the attack. The first line of North-Carolinians still 
wore an aspect of firmness, and their officers began to 
exult in the hope that, under the partial cover of the 
fence, they would deliver such a fire as would fatally 
cripple the enemy in his advance, and possibly effect his 
utter discomfiture. But, a few moments sufficed to dis- 
pel these pleasant anticipations. With the advance of 
the British, a scattering fire was began by the militia, 
and a single discharge from the whole line may have 
been delivered. But the inexperienced woodsmen were 
not equal to the terrible shock of battle, when opened 
with the earnest pressure of the bayonet. Coming on 
with a fierce halloo, an army with banners and a most 
gorgeous array, the British rushed forward in a wild 
torrent, pouring in their fire as they came, and hastening, 
with the most determined resolution, to the close business 
with cold steel. The militia were not equal to the trial. 
A panic seized upon the line. Those who were fearless, 
and would have fought, were isolated in the wild disrup- 
tion of their ranks, and compelled to obey the necessity 
which seemed to hurry them in flight. It was in vain 



PANIC OF THE MILITIA. 189 

that tlieir officers threw themselves across the path of 
the fugitives, and strove by blows, no less than words, to 
arrest the torrent. The flood was irresistible. Their 
fears, superior to self-rebuke or shame, were not to be 
restrained by arguments or threats. Bewildered by their 
terrors, they darted through the woods, or sought shelter 
in the rear of the second line, which opened, with hisses, 
to receive and shelter them. ^ 

The British, exulting at this first advantage, rushed 
forward in pursuit, with triumphant shouts, as if secure 
of victory. But they were welcomed by crossfires from 
the flanking parties of Washington and Lee, which 
silenced their clamors, and, for a moment, cooled their 
hopes. These flanking parties had witnessed, without 
dismay, the sad misconduct of the militia. They kept 
their ground steadily, and delivered their fire with a 
rapidity and precision, which taught Cornwallis the 
necessity of moving with more deliberation to the con- 
flict. A halt was ordered ; while the regiment of Boze, 
half-wheeling to the right, and the 33d, with the light 
infantry and Yagers, to the left, addressed themselves, on 
each hand, to the business of dispersing the flanking par- 
ties. Washington and Lee, thus entreated by a superior 
force, gradually yielded before the enemy, delivering 
steady and sure fires, at every chance, from tree and 
thicket, and only giving ground under the pressure of 
the bayonet. In thus retiring without losing their order, 
these separate bodies were soon brought into a corre- 
sponding relation with the second line of the Americans, 
which they had occupied in regard to the first. 

Meanwhile, the British line, which had again closed 
for the encounter with the Virginia militia, hurried on, 
with confidence, to the assault. But the Virginia militia, 
uninfluenced by the shameful example of the North-Caro- 
linians, presented an unbroken front to the assailants. 



190 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. 

Their fire was delivered with equal coolness and pre- 
cision. Armed, numerously, with the rifle, no single 
shot was expended idly, but each bullet had its mission 
for a special mark. Wide gaps were soon opened in 
the British files by a fire so destructive ; and the faltering 
and derangement which followed in the British line, un- 
der this handling, proved, conclusively, that their doom 
must have been inevitable with better behavior on the 
part of the American first line. But, the steady valor 
of the British prevailed, under the tenacious and trained 
spirit of veteran experience. Animated, by their officers, 
to the most determined efforts, they continued to press 
forward. Then it was, that, under the superior influence 
of the British bayonet, Lawson's brigade, on the Ameri- 
can right, began to yield. But they gave back slowly, 
and without losing their coolness or order ; the Ameri- 
can left, and the British right, becoming, respectively, 
the pivots upon which the two lines appeared to revolve. 
It was at this moment that Washington, who commanded 
the flanking party on the right, following the sweep 
which had been made by the right of the American line, 
and faithful to the charge of covering it, came out upon 
the road. Here, discovering that the retreat of the line 
was inevitable in the retreat of Lawson's wing, he sep- 
arated his infantry from it, and made his way to the 
third or continental line, taking post on the right of the 
Marylanders. The fight still continued on the left of the 
second line of the Americans, which, supported by the 
riflemen of Campbell and the legion of Lee, were enabled 
to protract the issue, if not to change its character. 

The disappearance of Washington, with his detach- 
ment, from the right wing of thB Virginia militia, had 
left Colonel Webster free to pursue his progress in this 
quarter. Webster was in command of the British left. 
He pushed forward, accordingly, until he came in con- 



ADMIRABLE CONDUCT OF THE MARYLANDERS. 191 

tact with the first reghnent of Marylanclers, forming the 
extreme right of the continental or third line of the 
Americans. This regiment was,j9ar excellence, the tenth 
legion of the American army. It was the same which, 
under Colonel Howard, had crossed bayonets with the 
British at Cowpens, compelling them to succumb. It 
had a fame to keep and cherish, which was not difficult, 
with its almost veteran experience. Commanded by 
Colonel Gunby, it was in fit condition to maintain its 
laurels. It was an evil hour for Webster that he pushed 
forward in this quarter. His approach occasioned no 
emotions. The Marylanders were prepared for him, 
and coolly awaited his approaches. Their fire was with- 
held until the British were within proper range, and 
then delivered with an effect so fearful as to produce 
almost instant discomfiture. Not waiting^ to note the 
effect of their fire, but seemingly assured of what it 
should be, the Marylanders followed up their fire, by 
descending into the plain and administering the bayonet. 
The rout which followed was complete. The British 
left was sent off reeling in confusion ; and, had either 
of the two squadrons of American cavalry been present, 
the enemy could never have recovered from the disas- 
ter. Webster, himself grievously wounded, was yet 
enabled to draw off his crippled regiment, and, cover- 
ing them behind a ravine in the cover of the woods, 
to wait for succor from his general. Greene did not 
dare to pursue his advantage, having no such confidence 
in his remaining regiments as would justify him in a 
close grapple, on the plain, with the whole British army, 
discarding all the advantages of his position, and relying 
on the struggle hand to hand. 

It was during the conflict between these two parties, 
that the artillery of the British, under Lieutenant 
M'Leod, had made its way aloifg the road, and at ^ 



192 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

length reached the field of action, taking a commanding 
position on a rising ground at the edge of the wood. 
This was an event of considerable importance in deter- 
mining the final event. 

The battle, meanwhile, was still raging fiercely be- 
tween the left of the Virginia militia, and the right wing 
of the enemy. Stevens, the brave commander of the 
former, had been disabled by a severe wound in the 
thigh ; but this did not dismay his followers. Still 
using their rifles, with coolness and precision, they were 
clinging to the wood, as they retired, and making their 
way slowly to the cover of the continental line. Their 
rifles, though no match for the British bayonet, were yet 
speaking audibly, at every second, to the veiy hearts of 
their assailants ; but they were not now in suflftcient 
force to render necessary the employment of so large a di- 
vision of the British army as had engaged them, and leav- 
ing them to the care of the first battalion of the guards, 
and the regiment of Boze, General Leslie drew off" the 
23d and 71st, and hastened to follow the footsteps of 
G-eneral O'Hara, who, with the 2d battalion, and grena- 
diers of the guards, had hurried to interpose between 
Webster and the Marylanders. His march brought him 
into collision, not with the first regiment of Maryland- 
ers, whom, we have seen, under Gunby, encountering 
the onslaught of Webster with such severe handling, 
but, with the second regiment from the same state, un- 
der Colonel Ford. Here the American general was 
doomed to a mortifying disappointment. Ford's regi- 
ment, uninfluenced by the noble example of Gunby's, 
recoiled from a conflict with the splendid line of British 
guards that bore down upon them. Their admirable 
bearing, and brilliant appearance, imposed too heavily 
upon the apprehensions of the Marylanders, and instead 
of a brave, manly straggle, they yielded, with scarcely 



CONFLICT OF STUART AND SMITH. 193 

an effort, before their foes, breaking entirely, after a 
brief trial, and in spite of all the exertions of their offi- 
cers. This misfortune threw Singleton's two pieces of 
artillery into the hands of the enemy; and they rushed 
forward, secure now of victory, with shouts that shook 
the field. But their exultation was premature. They 
had not noticed the approach of other foes of more stead- 
iness and spirit than those whom they pursued. Gun- 
by's approach, with the first Marylanders, had been con- 
cealed by the copse-wood by which the field was skirted, 
and equally silent and unsuspected had been the ap- 
proach of Washington, with the cavalry of his com- 
mand. In an instant, the British shouts of victory were 
changed to shrieks of death. Wheeling upon the left, 
the regiment of Grunby dashed in among the guards, 
and a terrible struggle, hand to hand, ensued. The 
contest was for life, no less than for victory. Gunby 
was wounded, and put lio7's de combat, his place being 
supj)lied by Howard. Disordered by their own wild 
pressure upon the recoiling ranks of Ford's Maryland- 
ers, the British guards no longer maintained any com- 
J)act order, under the charge of Gunby's. Then it was, 
that, while they struggled pell-mell, in all the mazes 
of the conflict, Washington's cavalry burst in upon 
them from the rear, and threatened their total annihila- 
tion. A series of individual conflicts followed in this 
struggle, some of which find their places in regular his- 
tory. One of these may well deserve our attention. 
The combatants were Colonel vStuart, of the guards, 
and Captain John Smith, of the Marylanders. Both of 
these champions were distinguished by nerve and 
muscle. They had met before, and a personal provo- 
cation had resulted in the mutual declaration that their 
next meeting should end in blood. The present was a 
fitting occasion, and they singled each other out, with a 
17 



194 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

fierce passion for revenge, which made them totally 
regardless of the wild confusion and red horrors of the 
vzelee. Their weapons were at once crossed, with a 
desperate fury, which promised but one result. A mo- 
ment decided the conflict. The adroit pass of Stuart's 
smallsword was admirably parried by the left hand of 
the American, while with his right, he drove the edge of 
his heavy sabre through the head of his enemy, cleaving 
him to the very spine. The next moment, he himself 
was brought to the ground, stunned, not slain, by the 
graze of a pistol-bullet, sent by a devoted follower of 
the fallen Briton, who was stricken to the heart, almost 
in the same moment, by the bayonet of an American, 
who was equally watchful of the safety of his superior. 
But the duel between these furious combatants did 
not arrest the business of the field. That went on, with 
increasing animation and interest. The British guards 
were overwhelmed in the struggle. Broken and scat- 
tered, reeling in confusion and dismay, pressed with 
inveterate rage by Howard and Washington, they were 
allowed not a moment to recover their organization or 
their breath. The crisis of their fate had arrived, and 
Cornwallis beheld in it the shadow of his own. He 
hastened to the point of danger, the whole field beneath 
his eye, covered with his flying guards, and their vindic- 
tive pursuers. The desperate condition of his fortunes 
required one of those desperate remedies, at the em- 
ployment of which quite as much nerve as judgment 
becomes necessary. The stern Briton adopted his reso- 
lution in an instant. He wheeled from the spot for the 
purpose of putting it in execution, and narrowly escaped 
captivity or death, at the liands of Washington. A 
petty accident, the falling of his cap, at the moment 
when our colonel of cavalry was about to dart upon his 
prey, as he rode uff, enabled the British general tn 



^S-M--^ m 




SLAUGHTER OP THE GUARDS. 195 

escape this danger, of which he was, possibly, at the 
time, unconscious. 

His care was in another quarter. The necessity be- 
fore him was a fearful one. His fortunes hung upon a 
thread. The rout of the guards was irretrievable, and 
must be followed by the worst consequences, if, in the 
.scattered state of his troops, the fierce onset of the cav- 
alry under Washington should remain unchecked. He 
had no forces in resei-ve. By this time the whole 
strength of the British army had been more or less 
engaged in the action. But one dreadful expedient 
remained to him, and, hurrying to the hill on which 
M'Leod had posted his artillery, he gave the terrible or- 
der to repel the progress of the American cavalry, by 
pouring out torrents of grape upon the field. Mingled 
in masses upon the plain, were his own troops with the 
Americans. Every storm of bullets swept necessarily 
through the ranks of friends and foes. His own guards 
must feel the storm as heavily as their adversaries. But 
they were already compromised. No remedy could avail 
for their safety, and none but this for his own. He gave 
the orders. Bleeding with previous wounds, O'Hara ex- 
postulated with his chief: " It is destroying ourselves." 
His remonstrances were made in vain. " True," was the 
answer of Cornwallis, " but it is now unavoidable. The 
evil is a necessary one, which we must endure if we 
would escape destruction." O'Hara turned away from 
the cruel spectacle, while the floods of grape tore their 
way in frequent tempest over the plain. The expedi- 
ent was fatally successful. It repelled the American 
cavalry. It rescued the victory from their clutches ; but 
one half of the splendid battalion of the guards was 
swept to ruin in the storm. 

The battle was not yet over. The conflict still con- 
tinued between the parties engaged in the woods. For 



196 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

the safety of his detachments in this q;iiarter, Greene 
felt the greatest anxiety. The British commander, reso- 
lute on victory as the only source of safety, was newly 
forming his line, bent upon the renewal of his endeavors. 
Forming under cover of the brush along the roadside, 
his operations were greatly concealed from sight ; and, 
pressing too cautiously forward, for the purpose of dis- 
covery, Greene incurred as great a peril of captivity or 
death as Cornwallis had done but a little while before. 
His coolness and presence of mind alone saved him from 
a shower of musketry. Occasional volleys were still 
heard from the edges of the wood, with now and then a 
mutual bellowing from the cannon of the rival forces, 
posted on separate heights. The regiment of Boze was 
still kept busy in the woods, with the left of the Ameri- 
can second line. There the riflemen of Campbell, the 
infantry of Lee, and the broad-swords of his legion, still 
maintained the conflict, firing from every cover, and 
retreating only at the approach of the bayonet. In this 
kind of warfare the Americans had all the advantage. 
They could be driven by their enemies, but not far ; and 
the moment the halt was made again, it was only to send 
forth new volleys of winged bullets, every one of which 
had its billet. The British, still advancing, were, never- 
theless, dropping fast, and Cornwallis ordered Tarleton 
with his dragoons, to the succor of the regiment of Boze. 
It happened, unfortunately, that Lee's cavalry had been 
withdrawn, with some other object, from the wing of 
Campbell's party, when the descent of Tarleton was 
made. Had they been present, the fortunes of the day 
might have been made triumphantly secure. Unshel- 
tered by this arm of the service, Campbell's rifles were 
compelled to disappear in double-quick time, having 
nothing to oppose to the British broad-sword. This, 
alone, saved the regiment of Boze, and enabled it to 



REVERSE OP THE AMERICANS. 197 

recover the British line. With its reappearance, and the 
disappearance of Lee's corps, for the fate of which his 
anxiety was now painfully awakened, Greene felt that the 
chances of the day were about to go against him. The 
British troops, though dispirited and greatly thinned, were 
yet again in line, and presenting a formidable front. To 
oppose them, the mere numbers of Greene might have 
been still sufficient ; but how could he rely upon the 
regiment of continentals which had so shamefully emula- 
ted the flight of the North Carolina militia, at the very 
brunt of conflict ? He had too much at stake to peril 
his troops unnecessarily in a struggle for which no train- 
ing had yet prepared them. A drawn battle, for all 
moral purposes, would suffice for his objects. The pol- 
icy of the Americans counselled delay rather than risk. 
With every moment of pause, the British army was 
losing in numbers, health, confidence, and resources. 
Fortunately, Greene had kept his regiment of Virginia 
continentals in reserve. With these he could draw off 
his troops with safety, the former interposing with un- 
broken front, to cover the retreat. A reckless courage, 
an audacity that would stake all on the hazard of a sin- 
gle cast of the die, might, with this regiment, sustained 
by those who still kept the field, have rendered the aflfair 
a glorious victory. But so, also, might such audacity 
have worked the entire ruin of the cause and the com- 
mander. Such boldness could only be justified by the 
desperation ot the case, such as Cornwallis felt, and by a 
perfect confidence in the coolness and steadfastness of the 
regiments from which the service was expected. Want- 
ing this confidence, and feeling no such necessity, Greene 
prudently determined not to renew the engagement. He 
had gained, perhaps, quite as much, or even more, than 
he had anticipated from the trial of strength, in crippling 
the enemy, and encouraging his own troops. Both of 
17* 



198 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

these had resulted from the engagement, in spite of all 
its disappointments and vicissitudes. 

The order, accordingly, was given to retreat. The 
North Carolina and Virginia militia had, by this time, 
generally gained the rear of the army, and were on their 
way to the designated place of rendezvous. Colonel 
Greene, with the Virginia regiment, fresh and entire, was 
employed to cover the retreat. With the first indications 
of this movement, the enemy advanced, with two regi- 
ments and a strong body of cavalry. The firing opened on 
both sides with great spirit, and was continued for some 
time with considerable animation. But the Americans 
were too firm, and the British too much crippled, to make 
the pursuers eager for the renewal of the conflict. The 
pursuit was soon arrested, and, bringing up the rear in 
person, Greene made his first halt for several hours, 
within three miles of the field of battle. Here he picked 
up his stragglers, arranged for the care of the wounded, 
and snatched a momentary rest from fatigue, before resu- 
ming his march, which he did in a cold and pitiless rain, 
reaching his encampment at the iron- works of Trouble- 
some creek, about the dawning of the next day. 



CONDITION OP THE AMERICANS. 199 



CHAPTER XIV. 

Oomwallis retreats — Is pursued by Greene — Escapes. — His Condition, 
and that of the Americans. — Greene's PoHcy. — Discontinues the Pur- 
suit of Coniwallis — Marches to South Carolina— Appears before Cam- 
den — and oflTers Battle to Lord Rawdon. 

Thus terminated this long and bloody conflict, the 
caprices and vicissitudes of which, for a long while, held 
the issue in suspense. But for the miserable failure of 
Greene's first line, the victory must have been with the 
Americans — as it was, nothing but the superior dis- 
cipline of the British secured it for them. Cornwallis 
was at the head of two thousand troops, as fine as any in 
the world. Of Greene's army, not more than five hun- 
dred had ever seen service. Yet no troops could have 
behaved better than a certain portion of his force. The 
habitual training of the British, when made to recoil, ena- 
bled them quickly to recover, and to form themselves anew 
for battle. But with Greene's militia the case was other- 
wise. Defeat was dispersion also. Even the Mary- 
landers of Ford, though saved from the onset of the 
guards by the timely interposition of Gunby and Wash- 
ington, could not again be brought to look the enemy in 
the face. The steadiness of the infantry of the former, 
and the cavalry of the latter, could not have been sur- 
passed; and the spirit exhibited by both, united the 
audacity of chivalry with the discipline of the regular 
soldier. Could Greene have saved his artillery, the losa 
of which is not adequately accounted for, he would 



200 LIFE OP NATIIANAEL GREENE. 

probably have had little reason to complain of the results 
of the conflict. One fourth of the British army had 
been put liors du combat in the mclce. Most of their 
officers were hurt. Cornwallis and Leslie narrowly 
escaped, the foraier having had two horses shot under 
him, while, at one moment of the struggle, the sabre of 
Washington was almost literally brandished over his 
head. His gallantry deserves every credit, and was such 
as to prove how vitally important to his safety did he 
estimate the issues of the day. His loss, in killed, 
wounded, and missing, was six hundred and thirty-three. 
Of these, one colonel and four commissioned officers 
were slain on the field; Colonel Webster and several 
captains died of their wounds ; the recovery of General 
O'Hara was, for a long time, doubtful ; Tarleton was 
wounded, and a General Howard, who volunteered in 
the engagement, besides twenty other commissioned 
officers. 

The Americans were far more fortunate. Their loss 
did not reach half this number — a result attributable, 
purely, to the superior excellence of the rifle in their 
hands, over the musket in the hands of the British. 
General Huger, at the head of the Virginians, was 
slightly wounded in the hand ; Major Anderson, an able 
officer of the 1st Marylanders, was killed; General Ste- 
vens was severely wounded ; and about a dozen other 
officers suffered from wounds also. The greater loss of 
the Americans consisted in the flight of the militia. One 
half of the North-Carolinians and a large number of the 
Virginians, when they left the field, continued on their 
way, long after the danger was over, and retired to their 
homes. The whole force of Greene, reviewed on the 
19th, four days after the battle, amounted to three thou- 
sand one hundred and fifteen, including every descrip- 
tion of soldier. The trophies which he left in the hands 



CONDITION OF CORNWALLIS. 201 

of his adversary, consisted of his artillery, a couple of 
baggage-wagons, and a portion of his wounded. It is 
one of the curious proofs of the doubtful and capri- 
cious character of the conquest, that he carried off a 
greater number of prisoners than he lost. 

The victory certainly lay with the British ; but it was 
a victory, as was remarked by Fox, in the house of com- 
mons, like that of Pyn'hus, which left the conqueror 
undone : " another such would ruin the British araiy." 
Greene, himself, upon a survey of the result, was enabled 
to make the same estimate. " He has gained his cause," 
said he, speaking of Comwallis, " but is ruined by its 
cost." The Biitish general, himself, was, probably, not 
not less satisfied of the justness of this judgment. Re- 
turning from the fruitless pursuit of the Americans, he 
was enabled to review his troops and the field of battle. 
The scene presented a spectacle, in open land and woods, 
which must have admonished him of the growing peril 
which hung about his camp. Nearly seven hundred of 
his best troops had been cut off. There they lay, on 
every hand, where the rifles of Campbell had dropped 
them, step by step, as they came — where the fierce 
charge of Gunby's regiment had swept them down, and 
where the flashing sabres of Washington had smitten 
them as with an edge of fire. There, too, covering the 
broad space before his eyes, were the numerous victims 
to his own unsparing artillery, when it became neces- 
sary, in arresting the cavalry of Washington, to sweep, 
with the same besom of death, the scattered and stag- 
gering guards whom he could no longer save. The 
British general, with a drooping spirit, prepared for the 
burial of the dead and the care of the wounded. His- 
tory records, to his honor, that he did not discriminate 
between friend and foe in the performance of these mel- 
ancholy duties. Night found him at this gloomy work> 



S02 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. 

and the aspect of the heavens had become gloomiei' with 
cloud and ram. The chilHng gusts of March swept the 
field, laden with sleety showers, that added to the suffer- 
ings of the wounded, and increased the cares and anxie- 
ties of those who were burdened with the charge of them. 
The baggage had not amved. The soldiers were with- 
out tents ; and, after the dwellings within reach had 
received all whom they could shelter, there were still 
hundreds, even of the wounded, who were exposed to 
all the rigors of the night and season, with no other 
cover than the clothes they wore. More than fifty of 
these wretched sufferers had perished ere the dawn. 

Encumbered with his wounded, with his best officers 
slain or incapable from wounds, with the moral of his 
army greatly impaired, surrounded by doubtftil and 
timid friends, or by vindictive and impatient enemies, far 
from his resources, and equally uncertain of reinforce- 
ments, the barren victory of Cornwallis was really a dis- 
aster of the worst description. He put on a face of the 
utmost confidence, while grief and anxiety were heavy 
at his heart. His proclamation, issued from his camp at 
Guilford, set forth, in glowing colors, the brilliancy and 
importance of his recent victory, even at the moment 
when he felt that his necessities counselled a retreat. He 
summoned the loyalists to his standard, and held out 
terms of pardon to the whigs at the very moment when 
his retrograde movements had begun. He could no 
longer venture to hunt his enemy. He felt that the 
fugitive must soon become the hunter. It was impossi- 
ble to struggle longer against the difficulties that encom- 
passed him. When he destroyed his baggage, after the 
affair at Cowpens, it was with the full persuasion that 
he should be in security in the British camp in Virginia, 
or in the richest counties in that state. He was now 
almost as far removed from this prospect as before, and 



RETREAT OF THE BRITISH. 203 

in less condition to attain it. His numbers were reduced 
one half — his men were barefoot — his stores were ex- 
hausted — and the enemy was still at hand, threatening 
an early renewal of the conflict — that enemy whom he 
had found it impossible to conquer, and whom he could 
no longer venture to pursue. In a precioitate flight lay 
his only means of security. 

On the 18th of March, three days after the battle, he 
commenced his retreat. His design was covered by 
every possible artifice. His boastful proclamation was 
intended to disguise his pui'pose ; and the better to attain 
his object, he conveyed his wounded in his wagons and 
litters, taking for granted, that, with such incumbrances, 
nobody would suspect his purpose of retreat. 

But "Greene had been too well advised of the condi- 
tion of the British army, to leave him in doubt as to the 
necessity before his adversary. The excellent spirits of 
his own army, officers and men — nowise daunted by the 
issue of the late struggle, but proud of the stand which 
a portion of them had made, and anxious to efface the 
discredit and reproach which had fallen upon the whole, 
by the misconduct of those who had faltered — all en- 
couraged the American general to take the initiate in 
the future trials of strength with the enemy. With the 
first intimation, therefore, of the march of the British, 
Lee was detached to hang upon his rear, and harass his 
progress. A deficiency of ammunition, under which 
Greene's army at present labored, alone prevented him 
from a more decided demonstration with his whole 
force. 

The advance of the Americans hastened the move- 
ments of Cornwallis. He could no longer pursue his 
march at leisure, encumbered with the litters of his 
wounded. Seventy of these he left behind, under the 
protection of a flag; pursuing a progress which was 



204 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. 

designed to keep his opponent in doubt as to his real 
destination and purpose, pressing forward across Deep 
river, in the direction of Salisbury, This route, looking 
quite as much to a return to South Carolina as to any 
other point, might have persuaded any commander, less 
wary and sagacious than Greene, to take a direct course 
for Camden, in order to intercept his progress to that 
place. But, entering into all the calculations of Corn- 
wallis, Greene was prepared to fathom, or to suspect, 
the real purpose of his adversary. A few hours sufficed 
to satisfy him of the propriety of his doubts. Recros- 
sing Deep river, Cornwallis marched down its east bank, 
leaving it no longer uncertain that Wilmington was the 
place which he aimed to reach. The light detachments 
of the Americans hung upon his skirts, while theT whole 
force of the army was pressed forward by a nearer road, 
which left the British troops but little advantage in point 
of distance. The contest was now not only one of 
speed, but one of skill — the former, indeed, depending 
greatly upon the degree in which the latter should be 
shown. In this contest, Cornwallis put forth all his 
strength. Greene pressed forward with all the energy 
which was possible, in bad roads and inclement weath- 
er, and, at one moment, when near Buffalo creek, had 
hopes of bringing on an engagement, under favorable 
circumstances. But a re-examination of his resources 
of ammunition, showed such a scanty supply, as greatly 
to discountenance the desire ; and the British sped for- 
ward, without farther interruption than could be sug- 
gested by the harassing vigilance of picked squadrons at 
their heels. This survey of Greene's resources, result- 
ing so unprofitably, occasioned some delay in the pursuit, 
of which Cornwallis took due advantage. Pressing 
forward his pioneers, he commenced throwing a bridge, 
at Ramsey's mill, across Deep river, near its confluence 



ESCAPE OF THE BRITISH. 205 

with the Haw. This indicated an intention to cross at 
that place, and was calculated to direct the march of 
the American army, crossing above him, down the op- 
posite bank. This left G-reene in a dilemma. He saw 
that if he pursued this route, the British, having an alter- 
native, would cross the Haw, and securely descend on 
the east side of the Cape Fear. So well planned, in 
this proceeding, had been the measures of Cornwallis, 
that there was no method of counteracting them. A 
movement directly forward, would only force the enemy 
across his bridge, which, broken down behind him, 
would leave to the Americans no means of passage, but 
by fords across the Deep or the Haw, in seeking which, 
the loss of time must utterly baffle the pursuit. 

For *a moment, Greene was compelled to hesitate in 
doubt. But twelve miles separated the two armies — 
the British at Ramsay's mills, the Americans at Rigdon's 
ford, both on Deep river. A day elapsed, in which the 
forces lay in patient watch of one another. But Greene 
soon reached his conclusion. His only hope lay in a 
forced march, and coup de fnain. He resolved to push 
forward his light troops, with orders to engage the 
enemy, if possible, and keep them employed until the 
army could overtake, and share in the conflict. The 
movement was made before day on the morning of the 
28th. But the British commander was too wary, and 
was too fully conscious of his peril, to be caught nap- 
ping. He kept himself well informed of all the move- 
ments of his adversary, and was soon apprized of the 
approach of the detachments. His flight was resumed, 
and he passed the bridge in safety ; but so hot was the 
pursuit, that he had not time to destroy it effectually, to 
bury his dead, or carry off" his beef, which was found 
hanging in the stalls. The light troops of the Americans 
were enabled to cross, and continue the pursuit ; while 
18 



206 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

the army pressed forward to overtake them, with an 
energy and eagerness, under which their sufferings were 
immense. Many of them, exerting themselves beyond 
their strength, fainted upon the wayside. No halt was 
taken for refreshment, but the calls of nature were sus- 
pended, in an earnest desire to bring the enemy to the 
final issue of the sword. What was their mortification, 
reaching the mills, to find the prey escaped! It was 
then that they broke down utterly — the stifled necessi- 
ties under which they had toiled, speaking out, despe- 
rately, in their disappointment. The volunteers and 
militia refused to follow any farther. Exhausted with 
toil, wanting provisions, and with their terms of service 
long since expired, they demanded their discharge. 
This was a surprise to their commander ; but it was one 
which he had no power to resist. He could only en- 
treat, but unsuccessfully ; their engagement was really 
at an end. The cares of agriculture were at hand, and 
their farms summoned them to the perforaiance of du- 
ties, upon which, indeed, rested the future hope of pro- 
visioning the army. He was compelled to yield to their 
requisitions, and this necessity was fatal to any hope 
which he might entertain of overtaking his enemy. 
Cornwallis, meanwhile, had passed into a region abound- 
ing with loyalists, where his resources improved at 
every step, and in which he could obtain easy and early 
intelligence of every step taken by the Americans. 
Greene reluctantly gave up the pursuit. 

Fixing his quarters, temporarily, at Ramsey's mills, 
in order to recruit his troops, and make his preparations 
for future service, Greene found his situation quite as 
mortifying, at this moment, as at any period during the 
campaign. He was now, after the discharge of the 
raiUtia, numerically inferior to his enemy ; yet he was 
now in possession, for the first time, of proofs which 



Greene's policy. 207 

showed how easy it might be, with moderate assistance, 
to ruin the araiy of Comwallis. But he applied for this 
assistance in vain. His own army was in a state of ex- 
treme suffering and prostration. They had scant provis- 
ions. Lean beef in small quantities, and corn-bread baked 
in the ashes, were their chief supplies ; and, not unfre- 
quently, the vulture was robbed of his garbage, by the 
fierce hunger of the starving soldier. Equally wretched 
was the condition of the troops in regard to clothing. 
Shoes there were none ; and their garments were such 
as remained from long and wearisome marches in wild 
countries, through pitiless weather. It was covering, 
perhaps, — but not clothing. That they were cheerful 
under their privations, was, perhaps, quite as much due 
to the influence of their commander, who freely shared 
their sufferings, as of that cause and government by 
which they seemed to be, almost entirely, disregarded. 

Having abandoned the farther pursuit of Cornwallis, 
as no longer proper or profitable, the natural inquiry of 
Greene was, in what manner he should now employ his 
army. Merely to maintain a position of surveillance 
upon the movements of his enemy, was neither agree- 
able to his own desires, nor of much promise of advan- 
tage to the objects which he aimed to effect. To achieve 
successfully, in conflict with an enemy already in partial 
possession of the country, it was necessary to dislodge 
him. This required the exercise of constant energies, 
and enterprises at once frequent and decisive, by which 
his attention would be distracted, and his strength worn 
out, in the harassing toils of a watch and defence, 
which exhausted his resources without leaving him in 
security. 

We have seen, that, on Greene's first assuming the 
command of the southern army, he fixed his eye upon 
the numerous posts with which the British had covered 



208 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

all the vulnerable and commanding portions of that 
state. These, in fact, constituted their base of opera- 
tions. To dispossess them of these, became., naturally, 
a first policy of the American general; and a series 
of separate enterpiises for this object was meditated, 
beginning, as we remember, with the attempt to sur- 
prise Georgetown by Marion — an attempt which was 
only partially successful. Circumstances now prompted 
Greene to the determination to renew these attempts, 
and, at once, boldly again to make his way into South 
Carolina. There was much to encourage him in this 
purpose. The partisans of that region had not been 
idle, while he was engaged in his protracted trial of 
skill with Cornwallis. Sumter had been beating up the 
British quarters on various occasions, had cut off their 
detachments, obtained numerous smaller successes, and, 
by his rapidity of movement and continued activity, had 
given frequent occasion for disquiet to Lord Rawdon, 
whom Cornwallis had left in command behind him. 
Marion had been equally busy; and Pickens, who had 
been detached by Greene, with this object, some time 
before, was busily engaged in recruiting the whig militia 
for similar uses. The day after the battle of Guilford, 
Colonel Hampton, another of the famous partisans of 
Carolina, arrived at the camp of the Americans with 
such tidings as renewed all Greene's anxiety to direct 
his steps rapidly upon the enemy's garrisons. His de- 
cision was accordingly taken. His calculations were 
simple and conclusive. If Cornwallis continued his 
progress to Virginia, his posts in South Carolina would 
be exposed to ruin, one by one ; and if, on the other 
hand, he wheeled about to follow the American army, 
he would be diverted, necessarily, from the conquest of 
North Carolina and Virginia, both of which states, 
relieved from his presence, would be enabled to concen- 



PREPARES TO RETURN TO SOUTH CAROLINA. 209 

trate their energies upon the completion of their broken 
regiments. In any point of view, the resolution to 
carry back the operations of active vv^arfare into South 
Carolina, seemed to promise results of far greater benefit 
than any other proposed plan of future campaign. But, 
in deciding upon this measure, General Greene incurred 
the greatest of perils — that of offending public opinion. 
He was about to depart from the ordinary rules of war- 
fare. Military men are not often permitted to forego 
the pursuit of an enemy, already weakened in conflict, 
to direct their efforts against a foe, strongly posted, and, 
as yet, unimpaired for resistance by previous struggle. 
This, which, in ordinary cases, would seem equally the 
impulse of temerity and caprice, was, however, in the 
present instance, dictated by considerations of the pro- 
foundest policy. Greene's reasons were given at length, at 
the time when his resolves were taken, in ample letters 
to Washington, Lafayette, and others. He argued, in 
addition to what has been already stated, that, by moving 
south with his troops, he should be enabled to provide 
them with the supplies which must else find their 
way to the enemy; that, whether Cornwallis pursued 
him or not. North Carolina, at least, — which was para- 
lyzed by his presence, — would be rescued from his pres- 
sure ; that the very boldness of his scheme, which seemed 
startlingly full of dangers, would have a large effect 
upon the public mind, as it would seem to indicate the 
possession of resources which were unsuspected by his 
adversaries ; and that the necessities of the country, and 
the moods of the people, were such as to justify and 
render it necessary that some considerable perils should 
be incuiTed — something, in short, left to fortune, in the 
expectation of results which could not accrue from any 
mere exercise of patience and circumspection. " The 
manoeuvre will be critical and dangerous," was his lan- 
18* 



210 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

guage to Washington ;...'* but necessity obliges me 
to commit myself to chance." " The troops will be 
exposed to every hardship ; but I shall share it with 
them." 

The moment that his determination had been taken, 
he sent an express to Jefferson, governor of Virginia, to 
forward fifteen hundred militia. Captain Singleton was 
despatched to Virginia to procure artillery ; magazines 
were ordered to be formed on the banks of the Catawba ; 
the partisan generals of South Carolina were apprized of 
his designs, and instructed to get the militia under arms 
for a series of separate enterprises ; and every means 
was put in exercise to secure, in advance, abundant sup- 
plies of provisions. The route of the army lay through 
a country, at once sparsely settled and in the hands of 
enemies ; and every precaution was necessary against 
failure and disappointment. All things being ready, the 
camp at Ramsay's mills was broken up on the 7th of 
April. The heavy baggage, and all the stores that could 
be spared from present use, were sent another route, by 
Salisbury, to the head of the Catawba ; while the aiTny, 
still seeming to press the pursuit of Cornwallis, crossed 
Deep river, and, for a day, continued the direct route to 
Wilmington ; then, suddenly taking the first convenient 
road to the right, he turned the heads of his columns 
in the direction of Camden, South Carolina. His hope 
was to surprise this place. He flattered himself, that, 
preceding all relief from the army of Cornwallis, his 
march would be unknown to, and unsuspected by. Raw- 
don. But he was disappointed. The distance which 
he had to tiaverse was one hundred and thirty miles. 
His progress was unavoidably slow. The country was 
sterile and exhausted, and in the hands of enemies. His 
every movement was watched and reported. The run- 
ners of the tories preceded him in his march ; and a 



GREENE PENETRATES SOUTH CAROLINA. 211 

delay of several days at the Pee Dee, in consequence 
of the want of boats for crossing, enabled Rawdon to 
receive full advices of the danger, and to provide against 
it. Greene reached the neighborhood of Camden on 
the 19th, and found its gamson fully equal to all the 
strength he could bring to bear against it. Reconnoi- 
tring it with the view to assault, he was compelled to 
forego the hopeless enterprise. Camden is situated on 
a gentle elevation, extending from the swamps along the 
Wateree river, to Pine-tree creek. Covered, to the 
south and west, by these streams, it was still farther 
closed against assault by a chain of redoubts, which 
guarded it on every open point, while the defences were 
made complete, by strong lines of stockade in the rear 
of the redoubts. Without battering cannon, any attempt 
to subdue it must have been hopeless; and nothing 
remained to Greene but to choose such a position as 
might tempt the enemy from his strong-hold. He took 
post, accordingly, on a small rising ground, on the 
Waxhaw road, within half a mile of the British lines. 
But, Rawdon manifesting no disquiet at this challenge, 
and no disposition to accept it, Greene retired, with his 
army, a mile and a quarter farther, to a place called 
Hobkirk's hill, where, with his left covered by a difficult 
morass clothed with woods, and his right approaching 
an almost impenetrable thicket, he pitched his tents for 
the present. 



212 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 



CHAPTER XV. 

Cornwallis pursues his Route to Vh'ginia. — The Partisan Warfare hi 
Carolina. — Marion. — Captures Fort "Watson. — Greene's Movements. — 
Rawdon marches out from Camden and gives him Battle. — Battle of 
Hobkirk's Hill. 

Cornwallis was greatly sui-jn-ised by the unexpected 
march of Greene into South Carohna. The boldness of 
the proceeding confounded him, and awakened his seri- 
ous apprehensions for the safety of British power in that 
state. His resolves seem to have been troubled by seri- 
hus perplexities. At first, he meditated to follow his 
adversary; and the scheme was full of plausibilities, 
which proposed to place the arniy of Greene between his 
own and that of Rawdon. From this, indeed, lay the 
greatest danger of the American general. But Cornwal- 
lis paused so long before reaching his conclusion, that it 
became evident that Greene was quite too far on his 
route to be overtaken. Rawdon must have either tri- 
umphed, or succumbed to his opponent, before he could 
possibly arrive to share in the struggle. To proceed 
to Hillsborough, with the hope of drawing off the regards 
of Greene, to that point, from South Carolina, was an- 
other suggestion, which seemed to betray the perplexi- 
ties of the British commander, occasioned by the move- 
ments of the Americans. On either side were doubt and 
difficulty ; doubts which no decision seemed likely to 
overcome, and difficulties which appeared to increase 
the more he examined them. Greene's wisdom, in the 
adoption of his coursc,was never more strikingly shown 



PARTISAN WARFARE IN CAROLINA. 213 

than in the trouble and anxiety which it occasioned 
to his enemy. The situation of Cornwalhs's army was 
such as materially to interfere with his enterprises. It 
had been terribly crippled by the affair at Guilford, the 
subsequent harassing pursuit, and the exhausting march- 
es. For three weeks after his arrival at Wilmington, he 
was employed in recruiting the strength of his shattered 
regiments ; and when he did put his army in motion, it 
was to commence the invasion of Virginia, where, fol- 
lowing the finger of his fate, he was destined, at York- 
town, to yield to other hands the laurels, to which, in 
some degree, the commander of the southern army might 
have urged his claim. Leaving him to his fate, which 
no longer concerns our progress, we return now to the 
field of former and future struggle in South Carolina. 

In that state, at no period, had domestic opposition to 
the invader been entirely at- an end. Crushed for the 
moment, her partisans simply held themselves aloof in 
shadow, in reserve for the moment when a reasonable 
prospect of success might attend the effort at open 
struggle. The immerous small enterprises which were 
undertaken by Marion and Sumter, with the many 
brave officers who followed in their commands, during 
the various progresses, already recorded, of the main 
army, will not require our enumeration or description 
here. Enough, that their effect was such as to carry dis- 
may everywhere among the settlements of the loyalists. 
Marion, in particular, succeeded for a time in breaking 
up, almost entirely, the communications between Charles- 
ton and the army under Rawdon, and by intercepting 
detachments and supplies for the several posts across the 
country, reduced them to the most serious straits and 
exigencies. Greene was by no means insensible to these 
services, and in ajjproaching South Carolina, a second 
time, he despatched Colonel Lee, Avith three hundred 



S14 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. 

men, to co-operate with Marion, who was at this time 
lying, perdu, in consequence of an active pursuit, which 
Colonel Watson, with a select and superior force, had 
been required by Rawdon to institute after the wary 
partisan. Lee narrowly escaped Watson, who might 
easily have prevented his junction with Marion. This, 
however, was effected successfully, and the partisan gen- 
eral lost no time in proceeding to action. His first 
demonstration was against Fort Watson, a strong stock- 
ade fort, raised on an ancient mound near the Santee. 
This post was captured, after a short defence. From 
this service, Marion turned to that of intercepting the 
march of his former pursuer. Colonel Watson, who was 
supposed to be making his way with all speed to the 
assistance of Rawdon at Camden. It was in aiming at 
this object, throwing himself across the path of Watson, 
and pressing on, himself, to the neighborhood of Camden, 
that Marion contributed to give a new impulse and new 
activity to the proceedings of Lord Rawdon. The Brit- 
ish general was growing uneasy at the augmentation of 
the American forces ; and determined to take the risks of 
a battle, before they should have been so far increased as 
to put the issue beyond all doubt. He was unaware that 
Greene had been strengthened by a timely arrival of two 
pieces of artillery, one of which, as soon as received, had 
been sent to Marion, while two other pieces, sent from 
Virginia, reached the camp of the Americans, on the 
very day when the British general marched out to give 
them battle. Prior to this, some movements v/hich 
Greene had made, on the 22d of April, which Rawdon 
very naturally construed into an attempt on the part of 
the American general to intercept the approach of Wat- 
son with his reinforcements, contributed to his uneasi- 
ness, and aided in inducing the determination to precipi- 
tate the issue. For this, Greene was in perfect readi- 



GREENE ATTACKED BY LORD RAWDON. 215 

ness. It was an event which he had too eagerly sought, 
and too earnestly desired, not to have provided against 
with all necessary precautions. The army was encamped 
in order of battle. They were held in constant expecta- 
tion of attack. Patrols ranged all the approaches, pene- 
trating as near to the town as the forest cover would 
permit, and the front of the camp was guarded by double 
pickets, against all the points from which danger was 
likely to approach. A becoming vigilance guarded 
against all danger of surprise. 

On the morning of the 25th of April, the day which 
Lord Rawdon had selected for the attack, a convoy much 
needed and long expected, bringing supplies of artillery 
and provisions, made its appearance in the American 
camp. The troops were at breakfast, with a keen relish 
for the creature comforts so seasonably brought, and 
Grreene, with his aids was enjoying the unwonted lux- 
ury of a cup of coffee, when the sound of fire-arms, in 
the distance, announced the approach of the enemy. The 
men, many of them, were still busy in the more grateful 
occupation of dressing their food ; while some washed 
their clothes at a neighboring rivulet. With the alarm, 
and the roll of the drums which followed, they were 
instantly in arms, and but a few moments sufficed to 
place them in array for battle. They were in number 
nearly or quite equal to the force of the enemy, and they 
exhibited a cheerful steadiness which gave to their com- 
mander the most grateful anticipations of the issue. The 
whole regular infantry of the Americans, fit for duty at 
this moment, was eight hundred and forty-three. The 
cavalry under Washington numbered but fifty-six men 
who were mounted. The artillery, commanded by Colonel 
Harrison, nominally a regiment, did not comprise men 
enough to fight three pieces ; and the militia force was 
but two hundred and fifty. Portions of the American 



216 LTPE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

force detached, left the strength of Greene very nearly 
that of his adversary. That of the British has been esti- 
mated at nine hundred men. These v^ere chiefly Amer- 
icans, and mostly first-rate marksmen. Greene's regulars 
had seen service also. He had v^ith him the favorite 
Maryland regiment of Gunby, which had behaved so gal- 
lantly at Guilford ; others of his troops had seen service 
in the same field ; and all of them vv^ore such an aspect of 
coolness as to leave him in no apprehension of the result. 
Still, he omitted none of his precautions. His baggage 
was despatched to the rear, a distance of several miles, 
and nothing was left to hazard, which the exigencies of 
battle did not make it necessary to expose. 

Hobkirk's hill is a narrow and slight elevation — a 
sandy ridge — which separates the head springs of two 
small rivulets. The encampment of Greene occupied 
this ridge. By his order of battle, the left wing rested 
upon the swamp of Pine-tree creek ; the right extended 
into the woods, and rested, in mWit^v j parlance, in air, 
— somewhat protected by the nature of the ground, and 
the brush and felled timber which was spread in front. 
The high-road to Camden ran through the centre of the 
line, dividing the two wings, and was covered by the 
artillery, which had been received just in season to be 
wheeled into position at the enemy's approach. Igno- 
rant of this timely arrival, and assuming Greene to be 
wholly without artillery, Rawdon brought none — his 
forbearance to do so enabling him to advance by a 
route on which his cannon could not operate. The bet- 
ter to take advantage of this ignorance, on the part of 
the enemy, Greene masked his pieces by closing the two 
centre regiments of his line upon the road. His whole 
force enabled him to form a single line only. The two 
Virginia regiments under General Huger, occupied the 
right of the road ; the two Maryland, under Colonel Wil- 



BATTLE OF HOBKIRK's HILL. 217 

liams, the left. The first Virginia, commanded by Colo- 
nel Camj^bell, was on the right of the whole ; the second 
Maryland, under Lieutenant-Colonel Ford, on the left. 
The second Virginia, under Lieutenant-Colonel Hawes, 
and the first Maryland, under Colonel Gunby, constitu- 
ted the centre. Colonel Washington and the small mili- 
tia force, about two hundred and fifty in number, under 
Colonel Reid, were held in the rear, at the foot of the 
hill, forming a second line or reserve. 

Lord Rawdon's line was composed of the 63d regi- 
ment on the right, the New York volunteers in the centre, 
and the king's American regiment on the left. The 
right was supported by the volunteers of Ireland, the 
left by a detachment under Captain Robinson; a South 
Carolina regiment was posted with the cavalry, forming, 
with these, nearly one half of his troops, which, accord- 
ingly, presented a very narrow front. Rawdon had 
taken a hint from the Americans, and had employed 
flanking parties of loyalists, as riflemen, moving abreast 
of his wing among the trees. This judicious arrange- 
ment served greatly toward giving him the advantage 
of the day. His advance was by a route which ren- 
dered it impossible to announce his approach, except by 
the fire of the videttes. These were nearly a mile dis- 
tant from the encampment. The picket guards, under 
Morgan and Benson, behaved with great courage and 
coolness, gathering in the videttes, retiring deliberately, 
and forming in good order under Captain Kirkwood, who 
was posted, with the remnant of the Delawares, in an 
advanced position on the right. These and the ad- 
vanced parties maintained the contest with an obstinacy 
that afforded ample time to the American army, and a 
beautiful example, as they retired, of deliberate and un- 
shaken valor. The auspices seemed highly encouraging 
to Greene, as the British army came in sight; having 
19 



218 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. 

forced their way, step by step, through the thickets into 
the open space, where the Americans were calmly 
awaiting their approach. 

Their appearance was the signal for the unmasking 
and opening of the American artillery. The effect may 
well be imagined of such a surprise upon them. Showers 
of grape among their ranks, when they had been taught 
to believe that Greene was wholly without artillery, pro- 
duced instantaneous results of confusion and dismay. 
At this moment, struck with the extreme narrowness of 
the British front, Greene seized the instant of their 
greatest confusion, to give orders for a charge. To 
close upon their flanks with his regiments on the right 
and left, and cut off' the fragments of the broken column, 
seemed to require but a single order : " Let the cavalry 
make for their rear — Colonel Campbell wheel upon 
their left, Ford upon their right — and the whole centre 
charge with trailed amis." Such was the prompt com- 
mand delivered to his attendants, in what seemed the very 
moment for its execution. His aids flew to convey it to 
the proper captains. The roll of the drum announced 
their tenor. The infantry stretched forward right and 
left ; and the cavalry of Washington disappeared among 
the trees, making the necessary circuit which would 
bring them into the British rear. 

For a moment, nothing could have been more auspi- 
cious to the hopes of the Americans. Their fire had 
shown itself superior to that of the enemy. The artil- 
lery had done its work ; and the ranks which had suf- 
fered from its terrific discharges, had failed to recover 
from their panic. The regiments under Campbell and 
Ford started forward, under an impetus at once swift 
and steady; and the manoeuvre, right and left, upon the 
flanks of the enemy, seemed to promise the most con- 
clusive finish to the grateful beginnings of the day. A 



REVERSES OP THE FIELD. 219 

feeble and ineffective fire from the flanking companies 
of the British, served rather to stimulate, than to dis- 
courage, their assailants ; and nothing remained to pre- 
vent the entire success of the Americans, but one of 
those capricious w^hirls of fortune, which sometimes lay 
the best plans, and the fairest prospects, prostrate in the 
dust. 

Greene had no ordinary opponent in Rawdon. His 
steady eye, deliberate and stern resolve, and ready 
resources, made him a formidable adversary. He, too, 
beheld the danger which awaited him, and of which the 
American general had taken such instant advantage. 
.He saw the force by which his flanks were threatened, 
and, with equal promptness, he ordered the protrusion 
of the supporting columns of his army. In an instant, 
the Americans were outflanked, their wings enfiladed, 
their rear threatened, and th^y themselves exposed to 
the very same peril in which they had calculated to take 
their enemy. A momentary recoil followed in the 
American regiments. With equal discipline to that of 
the enemy, the result must have been otherwise. But 
the firing of the British drew the fire of the American 
centre when their orders had been to reserve it. This 
centre was composed of the very flower of the army, — 
one of its two regiments being that of Gunby, or the 
1st Maryland, whose conduct at Guilford had been so 
conspicuous for its bravery. Firing against orders, was 
one proof of confusion, which was increased by the fall 
of Captain Beatty, of the right company of the regiment, 
who was much beloved, and who was stricken down by 
a bullet that pierced his heart. His fall checked the 
progress of his command. The halt influenced the other 
companies. It became a panic ; it spread from right to 
left, from front to rear ; and, finally, produced the recoil 
of the whole regiment. Unhappily, while Williams, 



220 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

Gunby, and Howard, were exhausting themselves in the 
most earnest efforts to restore firmness and consistency, 
Colonel Ford fell, mortally wounded, while gallantly 
leading the other Maryland regiment on the American 
left. The death of their leader, and the halt of Gunby's 
veteran command, determined their career. They re- 
coiled also. An unhappy error of Gunby, who hoped 
to recover his first line by halting it, instead of boldly 
pushing forward the second to its support, was easily 
mistaken for an order to retreat. A retreat it became, 
accordingly — and one, wdiich all efforts soon proved 
fruitless to prevent or to repair. 

Greene, at this period of disaster, was on the extreme 
right, leading on Campbell's regiment in person. Called 
away by the panic in the centre, he in vain labored to 
restore order amid the confusion which prevailed, and 
to bring the panic-stricken soldiers, once more, to face 
the enemy. His voice and presence were not without 
effect. A brief halt was obtained ; but, by this time, 
they had reached the opposite foot of the hill, and he 
was recalled to the field by the exulting shouts of the 
British. Galloj)ing back to the scene, where the action 
still continued, Greene was enabled, at a glance, to per- 
ceive the whole extent of his misfortune. The regiment 
of Hawes was that only which remained entire. By the 
advance of this regiment, and the retreat of the other 
centre regiment, the artillery was left, uncovered, upon 
the summit of the hill. The field was lost, and the 
danger was that the artillery would be lost also. Greene 
perceived its peril and his own. He was on one of the 
most conspicuous stations of the hill, with showers of 
bullets continually flying around him ; but he gave his 
orders with a degree of coolness and promptness, which 
readily communicated itself to his followers. His only 
hope was, to draw off" the right and left regiments from 



BATTLE OF HOBKIRK's HILL. 221 

the now unequal struggle, and form them on the regi- 
ment of Gunby, which had now rallied ; while Hawes, 
with the 2d Virginia, should cover the retrograde move- 
ment. The order was given and well executed. Hawes's 
regiment retired firing and fighting, and with so firm a 
front, as, in the issue, left to the American commander 
a choice, whether to renew the conflict, or effect a regu- 
lar and orderly retreat. But it threatened to be at the 
price of the artillery. For the safety of his cannon, 
Greene had ordered to the spot a select corps, of forty- 
five men, under Captain Smith, the same officer whose 
duel with Colonel Stuart, of the guards, formed so con- 
spicuous an incident in the battle of Guilford. But, 
before Smith could reach the spot, the enemy, with loud 
shouts, was making his way- up the hill; and Captain 
Coffin, at the head of the British cavalry, was darting 
forth from his cover in the woods, to join in the pursuit. 
The American matrosses were already quitting the drag- 
ropes, when Greene galloped up alone — his aids being 
all engaged in conveying his orders — and, throwing 
himself from his horse, with his own hands seizing upon 
the ropes, set an example of perseverance and resolu- 
tion, which the most timid found it impossible to resist. 
Smith's corps now made its appearance, and his men, 
their muskets in one hand, applied the other to the 
ropes, and made their way along the hill with the artil- 
lery. But the approach of Coffin's cavalry arrested 
this progress. Then it was that, forming in the rear of 
the artillery. Smith's little band encountered the charge 
of their enemy, pouring into the advancing cavalry a 
fire so destructive as to compel their flight. Again and 
again, however, did they return to the charge, and again 
were they foiled and driven back by the deliberate aim 
and steady nerve of this little squad, who, in the inter- 
vals, still pulled the ropes of the artillery, only throwing 
19* 



222 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. 

them aside when it became necessary to foi'm and receive 
the charge of cavahy. But this game could not be con- 
tinued long. The British infantry began to arrive. 
Their marksmen were scattering themselves among the 
trees, and their dropping fire began to thin Smith's com- 
pany. His forty-five were soon reduced to fourteen. 
He himself was badly wounded ; and, though he held 
his ground with unflagging resolution, it was evident 
that, but for timely succor, he must be lost. Unhappily, 
before this succor cjould arrive, an irregular fire was 
drawn, by some accident, from his little squadron, and 
Cofiin, with his cavalry, succeeded in forcing his ranks. 
Every man was slain or taken. The artillery now 
seemed lost. The batmen had run the limbers into the 
woods, cut the horses out, and made off upon them. It 
was at this moment that Colonel Washington charged in 
upon the road, and put an end to the contest. This 
ofiicer had, unhappily, burdened himself with prisoners. 
He had taken more than two hundred ; his humanity 
revolting at those summary processes by which Tarleton 
would have escaped the encumbrance. Each of his 
troopers bore his captive behind him, when the disaster 
of the army rendered necessary the final charge which 
extricated the artillery. Flinging off his prisoners for the 
onset, Washington drove the British cavalry up the hill, 
and checked their farther pursuit of the retiring regi- 
ments. The artillery was carried off in safety, and 
Greene, without farther molestation, continued the 
retreat. 

Two miles from the field of battle, he halted to col- 
lect his stragglers, renewing his march in the afternoon, 
and encamping for the night on Saunder's creek. Here 
he remained until the 25th, not without the hope that 
Rawdon, encouraged by his success, would attempt to 
renew the battle. But the enemy did not venture to 



MORTIFICATION OF GREENE. 223 

repeat the experiment, and it is a curious fact, that by 
a stratagem of Colonel Washington, the field of battle 
really remained in his possession. Rawclon, with the 
retreat of Greene, had taken up the line of march for 
Camden, leaving Coffin with his cavalry and a detach- 
ment of mounted infantry, on the ground. Advised of 
this arrangement, Washington placed his cavalry in a 
thicket on the roadside, having pushed forward a small 
party, with instructions to suffer themselves to be seen 
by Coffin's troops, and then, by flight and a show of 
panic, to beguile them into pursuit. The bait was taken, 
and the entire troop of Coffin darted headlong in the 
chase. Brought within the snare, Washington's cavalry 
dashed out upon them, and the whole party were either 
cut to pieces, or compelled to disperse for safety. 

Grateful as he was for this success, the mortification 
of Greene, at the issue of the combat, was almost 
wholly without consolation. The cup of victory had 
been snatched from his lips while the draught was most 
grateful and ready for the taste. He had made the most 
skilful disposition of his troops ; he had omitted no pre- 
cautions ; he had placed in the post of danger the sol- 
diers whom he had reason to suppose the most assured 
and steady ; and fortune had pronounced against all his 
plans and all his calculations. The victory was already 
in his grasp. The effect of his artillery had produced 
consternation in the ranks of the enemy — they were 
already faltering, and the cool obedience to his orders, 
as shown by the flanking regiments, had only to be sus- 
tained by the steady advance of the centre with the bay- 
onet, and the British, from wing to wing, must have 
been swept from the field. The fall of Camden must 
have followed, and this must have brought with it, as a 
necessary consequence, the rapid surrender of all the 
British posts from the mountains to the seaboard. Bit- 



224 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

telly did Greene reflect upon the inauspicious fortune 
which had so frequently interposed to snatch the cup of 
hope from his lips to replace it hy the cup of trembling ! 
His troops had not behaved badly. They had fought, 
on the whole, with great spirit. A portion of them had 
shown the tenacious courage of veterans, holding on to 
the foe with a bulldog resolution which gave the most 
flattering assurances of success. It was the unhappy 
error of Gunby, whose order to his first line to halt, 
when he saw them faltering, was unwise and unmilitary. 
" Gunby," says Greene, in a letter, " was the sole cause 
of the defeat. I found him much more blameable after- 
ward, than I represented him in my public letters." A 
court of inquiry pronounced upon his conduct. They 
approved equally his courage and activity. His zeal 
and spirit were beyond all cavil. They censured the 
order which he had given to his regiment, but as an 
error of judgment only, and from which flowed all the 
evil consequences of the day. The battle had been suf- 
ficiently bloody for the number of troops engaged, and 
the loss of the opposing armies was nearly equal. ** The 
enemy," according to Greene, " had more than one third 
of their whole force engaged, either killed or wounded ; 
and we had not less than one quarter." If the Ameri- 
cans lost the victory, the barren honors of the field were 
all that his success secured for Rawdon. 



RESULTS OF THE CONFLICT. 225 



CHAPTER XVI. 

Rawdon attempts the Camp of Greene. — Evacuates and destroys Cam- 
den. — Capture of Fort Motte and other Posts by the Partisans. — 
Rawdon at Monk's Corner. — Marion takes Georgetown — Pickens 
AugTista.— Greene besieges Ninety-Six — Attempts to storm it, and is 
defeated with Loss. 

The event of the battle of Hobkirk's hill, though unfa- 
vorable to the Americans, did not materially change the 
situation of the parties. Any successes of the British 
which failed to destroy their adversaries, or drive them 
out of the state, — any advantage, falling short of a 
complete victory, — would fail in effecting for them any 
advantageous change in their situation. The army of 
Greene was chiefly important to the southern states, at 
this juncture, as it afforded a countenance to the whig 
population, and, by keeping the foreign troops of the 
enemy in constant anxiety and expectation, gave an 
opportunity to the native partisan leaders, to cope with 
the British detachments and their tory allies. There 
was nothing, therefore, beyond the natural mortification 
of defeat, in the recent battle, to discourage the hopes, 
or compel a change in the plans, of the American gen- 
eral. On the other hand, there was much to qualify the 
satisfaction which Rawdon felt in his victory. The 
spirit of his troops, his own merits and good fortune, 
had brought him success ; but it had been dearly paid 
for, and it was incomplete. His strength had been 
lessened in the struggle, while that of his adversary ap- 
peared undiminished. He had been compelled to retire 



226 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. 

within his works at Camden, and the Americans still 
gathered in his neighborhood. They had been driven, 
but not out of sight ; and he was in no condition to 
renew the attempt at their destruction or expulsion — 
not, certainly, with his present force, encumbered with 
wounded, nor until the arrival of his reinforcements un- 
der Watson. The fate of this command was neces- 
sarily, a subject of the greatest anxiety. 

To prevent the junction of the force under Watson — 
estimated at six hundred men, with four field-pieces — 
with that of Rawdon, was the first subject of considera- 
tion with Greene. Marion and Lee were employed to 
cover the intervening country, and arrest his march, 
should he make for Camden. The last intelligence re- 
ported him to be still in Georgetown, and inactive ; and 
Greene had no difficulty in persuading himself, that, 
with the vigilant eyes of Sumter, Marion, and Lee, upon 
his movements, it would be impossible for him to make 
his way to the stronghold of Rawdon. But the troops 
under our partisans, however swift and vigilant, were 
not sufficiently numerous to compass such an extent 
of country, so as to guard equally all its avenues ; and 
Watson had large merits of his own as a partisan, which 
his own and the necessities of his superior compelled 
him. to put in active requisition. With the co-operation 
of Major M' Arthur, an intelligent and adroit captain of 
cavalry, he succeeded in masking his real movements, 
and eluding the vigilance of his enemies. They had 
attempted too much with their small commands, and 
Watson succeeded in making his way into Camden. 

The junction of this force with that already in the 
garrison at Camden, by increasing the strength of Raw- 
don very much beyond that of Greene, rendered the 
situation of the latter somewhat critical. Li connexion 
with rumors of the approach of Cornwallis from Vir- 



CONDITION OF GREENe's FORCES. 227 

ginia, it compelled him to exercise all his vigilance with 
regard to his own safety. He foresaw that Rawdon's 
increase of strength would naturally prompt him to 
resume active operations in the field, and a proper 
reflection taught him to look for the first blow from the 
enemy. His first duty was to evade the conflict, to 
which he was still unequal ; and, accordingly, on receiv- 
ing the tidings of Watson's good fortune, he set his 
army in motion to increase the space that separated him 
from Rawdon. Retiring to a strong position on the far- 
ther side of Colonel's creek, he drew up his army in 
order of battle, and awaited his enemy. 

Rawdon was not long in making his appearance. He 
drove in the American pickets, reconnoitred their po- 
sition, and, finding it too strong to be forced he drew 
off* his army, and returned once more to Camden. This 
respectful behavior carried with it few consolations to 
the mind of Greene. His condition, and that of the 
country, can be shown in no more forcible language 
than that of Colonel Davie. *' This evening," says he — 
the 9th of May, the day after Rawdon's demonstration — 
" the general sent for me earlier than usual. I found the 
map on the table, and he introduced the business of the 
night with the following striking observation : * You 
see that we must again resume the partisan war. 
Rawdon has now a decided superiority of force. He 
has pushed us to a suflBcient distance to leave him free 
to act on any object within his reach. He will strike at 
Lee and Marion, reinforce himself by all the troops that 
can be spared from the several garrisons, and push me 
back to the mountains. . . . You observe our dangerous 
and critical situation. The regular troops are now re- 
duced to a handful, and I am without militia to perform 
the convoy or detachment service, or any prospect of 
receiving any reinforcement. . . . North Carolina, dis- 



228 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

pirited by the loss of her regular troops in Charleston, 
stunned into a kind of stupor by the defeat of G-eneral 
Gates, and held in check by Major Craig and the loyal- 
ists, makes no effort of any kind. Congress seems to 
have lost sight of the southern states, and to have aban- 
doned them to their fate; so much so, that I am even as 
much distressed for ammunition as for men. We must 
always calculate on the maxim, that your enemy will do 
what he ought to do. We will dispute every inch of 
ground in the best manner we can ; but Rawdon will 
push me back to the mountains. Lord Cornwallis will 
establish a chain of posts along James river ; and the 
southern states, thus cut off, will die like the tail of a 
snake." 

These were melancholy forebodings. The mind of 
Greene, naturally cheerful and elastic, was overborne, 
temporarily, by the pressure of defeat and the grief of 
hopes deferred. But, however gloomy, he did not yield 
to despondency. The native hue of resolution did not 
abandon his heart. Nor was the case so bad as his 
melancholy mood had painted it. He had been driven 
rather than defeated, and his disappointments had never 
been coupled with any real occasion for the exultation 
of the enemy. His great prudence had served, in almost 
every instance, to save him from material injury. His 
recuperative faculties were great, and there were cir- 
cumstances, in the progress of the struggle, that were 
full of future promise to the cause. The increase of 
Rawdon's force at Camden did not imply anything but 
a temporary gain. It gave him a momentary advantage 
over his enemy, but was not adequate to the necessities 
which grew around him. His chain of posts, already 
broken by the loss of Fort Watson, was still farther 
threatened by the active partisans of Carolina. Marion 
was even now besieging Fort Motte, while Sumter and 



INCREASE CF PARTISANS. 229 

Pickens were preparing for the investment of Granby, 
Augusta, and Orangeburg. These, unless with timely 
succor from the main army, must soon fall into the hands 
of the Americans ; and, thus threatened with isolation, 
with the several detached parties of tbe native militia 
assembled in co-operation with Greene's army around 
Camden, that garrison must succumb also. The pros- 
pect was scarcely more grateful to Rawdon than to 
Greene ; and a progress that we have forborne to touch 
upon, had contributed to awaken the most lively appre- 
hensions on the part of the British and their tory allies. 
This had arisen in consequence of the unexpected 
growth and appearance of new bands of whig partisans 
in every part of the state. In addition to those which 
followed Sumter, Marion, and Pickens, they were every- 
where rising in proof of a revival of the revolutionary 
spirit. The career of Major Harden had exercised a 
highly important influence in the lower country. De- 
tached by Marion with seventy select men, well mounted, 
he had crossed the enemy's line of communication ; 
and, penetrating the country southwest from Charleston, 
he had roused a spirit of hope and resistance, which 
was full of the most beneficial results. Rapid in move- 
ment, appearing unexpectedly in the settlements, he had 
taken the enemy by surprise everywhere, and rendered 
himself the terror of the loyalists of that region. His 
force gathered with its progress. His seventy grew to 
hundreds ; and, after scourging summarily the disaf- 
fected along the banks of the Savannah, in Georgia as 
well as South Carolina, — mocking all plans to entrap, 
and all efforts to subdue or overtake him, — he darted 
upward in season to unite with Pickens, then operating 
against Augusta. 

This was but one instance of many similar progresses 
which were calculated to encourage the hopes of the 
20 



230 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

Americans, and alarm the British general with regard 
to the growing dangers of his fortune. Rawdon felt too 
surely that his successes had been illusory. They could 
not suffice to lessen the perils of his situation. His only 
hope would be to beguile his enemy into a pitched bat- 
tle ; but his recent attempt to do so, satisfied him that 
his antagonist was quite too wary to incur any unneces- 
sary perils, in a game which circumspection must secure. 
In this lay his only hope, and it was one which the 
character of Grreene forbade him to indulge. Denied 
this hope, he felt, momently increasing, the apprehension 
of being cut off from the seaboard. It was now known 
that no help was to be expected from Cornwallis, whose 
march to Virginia was beyond dispute ; and, with this 
knowledge in the American camp, Greene felt fully as- 
sured of the course of his opponent, in consequence of a 
just appreciation of the critical exigency of his situation. 
A single day altered the aspect of his fortunes, and his 
own. We have, again, the testimony of General Davie : 
" I employed the whole night in writing, until an orderly- 
sergeant summoned me to headquarters, about daylight. 
On entering the general's tent, I soon perceived some im- 
portant change had taken place. * I have sent for you,' 
said he, with a countenance expressing the most lively 
pleasure, ' to inform you that Lord Rawdon is preparing 
to evacuate Camden. That place was the key of the 
enemy's line of posts. They will now all fall, or be 
evacuated. All will now go well." 

The orders of Rawdon had already gone forth for the 
abandonment of Ninety-Six. Cruger, who commanded 
at that place, was to remove his command to Augusta, 
which was threatened by Pickens. Rawdon, himself, 
meditated, by his own march, to save Fort Motte, and, 
possibly, the farther posts of Orangeburg and Granby. 
At all events, the British general was preparing to yield 



RAWDON EVACUATES AND DESTROYS CAMDEN. 231 

before the army which his increase of strength had not 
enabled him to subdue. The departure, Hke the ap- 
proach, of the British, was usually marked by desolation. 
Camden was given to the flames, and left in ruins. Had 
the militia promised from Virginia been sent to Greene 
in season, the British general would, in all probability, 
have left Camden as a prisoner, rather than a destroyer. 
He had not moved a moment too soon. The garrison 
was already straitened for provisions ; and the arrival of 
the Virginia militia, or the co-operation of the several 
commands of Sumter, Marion, Pickens, and Lee, after 
the fall of the several posts against which they operated, 
must have had but one issue in his overthrow. 

Rawdon's movement was not in season for the relief 
of Fort Motte. It had already fallen into the hands of 
Marion. The posts at Orangeburg and Granby had 
also been surrendered to Sumter and Lee, before he 
could approach them, and his own march was watched 
by Marion's parties. He pursued the route toward 
Charleston. Greene had also put his army in motion, 
in order to cover the detachments of Marion and Lee, 
which he supposed still engaged in the leaguer of Fort 
Motte. Sumter, whose impetuosity and enterprise were 
ever the most striking elements in his military character, 
now strenuously urged upon Greene the plan of uniting 
with Lee and Marion, and making an attempt upon the 
army of Rawdon. But the American general preferred 
the safe game to the perilous one, however brilliant ; 
and the conquest of the posts of the interior, presented 
themselves to his mind as the most legitimate object. 

Rawdon, meanwhile, made his way forward, without 
interruption, until he reached Monk's corner, where, for 
the time, he established himself, leaving the country all 
above him in the hands of the Americans, with the 
exception of the posts at Ninety-Six, Augusta, and its 



232 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

neighborhoods. The latter, pressed by Pickens and 
Lee, were soon yielded to the skill and courage of the 
assailants, though not without a fierce and bloody resist- 
ance. The capture of Forts Grierson and Cornwallis 
was distinguished by one of those instances of sudden 
and terrible retribution, which conferred a character, so 
personal and vindictive, on the warfare in South Caro- 
lina. Colonel Grierson had become, with other obnox- 
ious enemies, particularly odious to the Americans by 
his savage barbarities. It was while Pickens was absent 
from the camp, that a person unknown — disguised, per- 
haps, sufficiently to escape identification — dashed on 
horseback into the house where Grierson was kept, and, 
without dismounting, shot him dead, wheeling about 
and escaping before he could be arrested. The inci- 
dent reminds us of one in Scott's poem of Rokeby, 
where the outlawed Bertram rides into the church, 
amid the assembled congregation, and shoots down his 
victim at the foot of the altar. So obnoxious had the 
prisoners, taken on this occasion, become to the major- 
ity of the militia of Pickens's command, in consequence 
of their monstrous and frequent atrocities, that the lives 
of others were attempted, and their commander was 
compelled to send them to Greene at Ninety-Six, in 
order to protect them from the unsparing revenges of 
the families they had outraged by their crimes. 

Greene, meanwhile, almost for the first time with an 
open field before him, — his apprehensions of Rawdon 
at rest for the moment, — pressed forward, with all dili- 
gence, for the purpose of investing Ninety-Six. The 
task of holding Rawdon in check, and confining him to 
the neighborhood of the sea, was confided to Marion 
and Sumter. In the execution of this duty, they closed 
ujDon the British general, until he found it necessary to 
fence himself in with a new chain of fortified places, 



THE POST AT NINETY-SIX. 233 

extending from G-eorgetown, by Monk's corner, Dor- 
chester, and other points, to Coosawhatchie. But the 
partisans, daily becoming bolder, did not hesitate to dash 
at intervals within the limits of this cordon, and to ruffle 
the dovecotes even vv^ithin hail of Charleston. Marion, 
strengthened sufficiently to leave a strong force of volun- 
teers for the protection of the country along the Santee, 
directed his attention to Georgetown, which he took, 
expelling the garrison and demolishing the works. His 
lieutenant, Horry, had succeeded in silencing and sub- 
duing the loyalists along the Pee Dee ; and, in the 
activity of the several parties under these commanders, 
Rawdon soon found himself greatly straitened in his 
resources, and threatened in his securities. They were 
not in sufficient strength for any open demonstration in 
his neighborhood ; but they traversed the country almost 
beneath his eyes, sweeping off the herds, and cutting 
oft his foragers. Thus watched, pursued, and environed 
by the most sleepless and restless foes, Rawdon was 
compelled to gnash his teeth in inactivity, while Greene 
was making his approaches to the important and strong 
post of Ninety-Six. 

The siege of this place constituted one of the most 
stubborn and animated contests of the campaign. It 
was a position of great strength, well fortified, and with 
a numerous garrison. Greene, soon after reconnoitring 
it, expressed his apprehensions of failure. " The fortifi- 
cations are so strong, the garrison so large and so well 
furnished, that our success is doubtful." It was held by 
Colonel Cruger, an American loyalist of skill and cour- 
age ; and no pains, that zeal and industry could suggest 
or employ, were spared in preparing for the leaguer. 
Numerous slaves were employed to relieve the garrison 
from laborious services ; while abundant supplies of 
provisions precluded all hope of starving them into sub- 
20* 



234 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. 

mission. Originally a stockade, raised by the first in- 
habitants as a barrier to Indian incursion, the post of 
Ninety-Six, or Cambridge, became the site of a village 
bearing the latter name. Lying a few miles to the 
south of the Saluda, and less than forty from the Savan- 
nah river, it constituted an important position for the 
control and keeping of a large and exposed frontier. 
The name of Ninety-Six was derived from the distance 
at which it stood from Fort Prince George, another 
post which had been planted among the Cherokee towns 
along the Keowee. The spot was otherwise distin- 
guished as the scene of the first conflicts in the southern, 
and perhaps in the revolutionary war. At this place, in 
1775, commenced that dreadful civil war between the 
patriots and loyalists, which, afterward, desolated the 
country. Many of the present defenders of Ninety-Six, 
under Cruger, were natives, who had distinguished them- 
selves by their ferocity, and who now fought with halters 
about their necks. That they should fight desperately 
and well, it is easy to conjecture. 

The simple works of defence which originally cov- 
ered the spot, were strengthened by others of superior 
character, as soon as Cornwallis resolved that it should 
be occupied. Select British engineers were employed 
for this purpose, and new works were raised, with a due 
regard to all the requisitions of military science. Among 
these works was a redoubt, in the form of a star, with six- 
teen salient and returning angles. It stood within rifle- 
shot to the southeast of the village. It was manned with 
three pieces of artillery, worked on wheeled carriages, 
which enabled its defenders to sweep any point along the 
horizon ; while the rifles of a numerous garrison covered 
the more limited range with crossing fires, from which it 
was scarcely possible that any assailants should escape. 
A dry ditch, frieze, and abatis, by which it was sur- 



SIEGE OF NINETY-SIX. 235 

rounded, still farther increased the strength of the po- 
sition, and lessened the chances of successful assault 
upon the drfenders. Opposite, at a distance of nearly 
two hundred yards, a stockade fort, which enclosed two 
blockhouses of strength, occupied the crown of a small 
eminence. A little valley, traversed by a streamlet, which 
afforded water to the garrison, divided this fortress from 
the village, and was reached by a covert way. Con- 
tiguous to this valley, and as a protection on the right, 
the county jail had been converted into a castle, and 
was strongly garrisoned also. The several places of 
defence lay within easy reach and support of one 
another, and numerously held, with ample supplies of 
food and ammunition, might well discourage the inferior 
and ill-provided army with which Greene prepared to 
undertake the leaguer. His force, exclusive of militia, 
did not exceed a thousand men, and left him without 
the means of assailing the gari'ison except on a single 
side. He had sat down before the place on the 22d of 
May, commencing his examination in person, accom- 
panied by the celebrated Kosciuzko, his chief engineer, 
and one of his aids, and, under cover of a thick and 
rainy night, approaching so near the works as to be 
challenged and fired upon by the sentinels. The star 
redoubt was selected as the most conspicuous object for 
attack, as it commanded all the others. Yet Greene 
was totally without battering cannon, and in such a 
deficiency, the only modes of procedure were by simple 
blockade, by mining, or by storm. The former process, 
the garrison having abundance of provisions, it was 
useless to attempt : Greene resolved upon trying both 
the remaining modes. Had it been known that the 
garrison had failed to procure water by digging within 
the redoubt, it would have been easy to cut them off 
from the stream which wound through the valley; — but, 



236 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

as, on a previous occasion, a well had been sunk within 
the redoubt, affording ample quantities, the besiegers 
had no reason to doubt that a similar experiment would 
be followed by the same result. 

The besiegers broke ground on the 23d ; and, pro- 
ceeding by regular aj^proaches, on the 3d of June the 
second parallel was completed. Numbering but twice 
the force of the garrison, the duty fell severely upon the 
Americans of fighting and working, with little relief or 
cessation. On completing the first parallel, a mine, 
directed against the star redoubt, was commenced, under 
cover of a battery which had been thrown up on the 
enemy's right. Day and night, the work was pursued 
by the besiegers. Now laboring in the ditches, — now 
watching over those who labored, — and sleeping, where 
they toiled, on their arms, with the view to repel the 
sallies of the besieged — their hours of rest and respite 
were exceedingly limited. The besieged showed neither 
want of energy nor spirit. Their sallies were frequent, 
marked by great audacity, and usually resulted in pro- 
longed and bloody conflicts. The steady progress of 
the American works sufficiently prove, that, however 
bold, the sallies of the garrison were without any pro- 
ductive results. They proved rather their courage and 
daring, than their ability and strength. Not a night 
passed without battle and the loss of life. 

With the completion of the second parallel, the gar- 
rison was summoned to surrender. A courtly defiance 
was Cruger's answer. The third and last parallel was 
immediately begun, and prosecuted with a degree of 
vigor which the exhausted state of the army would have 
scarcely promised. It was at this moment, when most 
he needed his recruits, that Greene was apprized that the 
Virginia militia, two thousand in number, for whom he 
had been looking so long, had been diverted in another 



DISCOURAGEMENTS OF THE SIEGE. 237 

quarter by the governor of that state. He had com- 
menced his operations against Ninety-Six, in anticipa- 
tion of this body of men. The militia of South CaroUna 
and Georgia were barely adequate to the duty of keep- 
ing Rawdon and the tories in check. Those under 
Pickens were still engaged in the siege of Augusta. 
Could the Virginians have arrived in season, the siege 
could have been pressed at once to conclusion, and the 
place, in spite of the vigor of its defence, must have 
soon fallen into his hands. What rendered the proceed- 
ing particularly ungracious, which deprived him of the 
Virginia militia, was the fact, that, for the defence of 
this very state, he had voluntarily deprived himself of 
his whole disposable force. It was at his instance, when 
Cornwallis was found to be pressing upon Virginia, that 
Lafayette had been ordered back, — that the troops of 
Pennsylvania, on their way south, had been halted and 
made to act under Lafayette and Steuben, — and that 
the North-Carolina levies, actually on their way to join 
him, had been sent in the same direction to the succor 
of the sister state. And this magnanimity had been 
shown by Greene immediately after the battle of Cam- 
den, when he was lying in front of a superior enemy, 
and destitute of almost everything. 

He could only complain and remonstrate against this 
treatment. He had no other remedy. To issue new 
orders to the North-Carolina levies to join him instead 
of proceeding to Virginia, — to make a new effort to 
raise troops in South Carolina and Georgia, — and to 
concentrate all his present strength upon the present 
object — that of bringing the gaiTison of Ninety-Six to 
their knees with all rapidity, — were the tasks before 
him, and to which all his energies were now addressed. 
With the commencement of his third parallel against 
the star redoubt, the sallies of the ganison were increased 



238 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. 

in frequency and spirit. The fighting was incessant. 
Their three pieces were used with equal vigor and 
judgment, and it became necessary to silence them if 
possible. Rude towers of roughly-hewn logs were 
raised, of sufficient solidity to withstand the weight of 
the shot thrown by the garrison. These were manned 
with marksmen, whose fire, from a commanding position, 
soon picked the artillerists from their guns. Red-hot 
shot were employed, by the besieged, for the destruction 
of these towers ; but the green wood of which they 
were constructed, baflfled the fervor of the flames. Si- 
lenced during the day, the artillery of the garrison was 
employed for a while, fruitlessly, at night ; but this prac- 
tice was soon abandoned, as it was found how ineffec- 
tual was the aim. The cordon was contracting around the 
brave defenders of the fort; and the arrival of Lee, with 
his legion, from the siege of Augusta, which had now 
surrendered, enabled Greene to direct his efforts against 
the stockade fortress also. He had reason to urge all 
his efforts to shorten the duration of the siege. Des- 
patches from Marion had brought him intelligence of 
the arrival, in Charleston, of three British regiments, to 
the support of Rawdon. The acquisition of this force 
would give the latter the immediate and complete ascen- 
dency in the state, and, as Greene well knew, would set 
him instantly in motion for the relief of the beleaguered 
post. To press his leaguer with all his strength and 
energy, and to keep the garrison from any knowledge 
of the increased ability, or of the efforts, of Rawdon to 
relieve them, were the immediate objects of the Ameri- 
can general. To secure the latter object. Colonel Wash- 
ington, who had now rejoined the army with his cavalry, 
and the cavalry of Lee's legion under Major Rudolph, 
were ordered to reinforce Sumter, who was instructed 
to form a junction with Marion — the whole force, thus 



THE GARRISON STRAITENED. 239 

united, to hang upon the enemy's march, retard his 
movements by every possible means, and completely 
cover the country over vv^hich tidings of his approach 
could be transmitted. Assumins^ the reduction of 
Ninety-Six as a matter certain, could the necessary 
delay be secured, Greene's determination was, after that 
event, taking with him the Georgia and South-Carolina 
militia, to join his forces with those of Sumter and 
Marion, and give Rawdon battle on the march. But the 
reduction of Ninety-Six was the first object. 

The siege of the star was urged with the desperate 
energy of those who knew how much depended on the 
event, Lee, meanwhile, made regular and rapid ap'- 
proaches to the stockade. He, too, had to encounter 
numerous and spirited sallies of the besieged; — but his 
advance was equally swift and steady; and very soon, 
between his fire and that of the third parallel, the enemy 
could no longer venture to the rivulet for water in the 
light of day. Naked negroes were now employed, by 
night, for the purpose of bringing in the necessary sup- 
plies to the garrison of both places ; and those who 
know the singular consideration of self which marks this 
class of people, may easily imagine how limited mu^t 
have been the supply thus furnished to the garrison. 
To increase their disquiets and discomforts, an attempt 
was made, such as had been employed by Marion at 
Fort Motte, to set fire to the buildings within the fort by 
means of burning arrows. But Cruger instantly un- 
roofed his houses, and thus escaped all farther peril from 
this source of annoyance. An attempt of Lee to de- 
stroy the abatis of the stockade by fire, in open daylight, 
was similarly unsuccessful, and resulted in the destruc- 
tion of the whole party engaged in the attempt. But 
these disappointments did not discourage the besiegers. 
The fate of the brave garrison seemed to be a thing 



240 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

written. It was evident that the defence could not much 
lonsrer be maintained. Tlieir works were all overawed 
by the superior fire of the besiegers, whose wooden 
towers approached within thirty yards of the ditch, from 
which the riflemen swept everything human that rose 
within vision above the ramparts. A battery, twenty 
feet high, for cannon, within a hundred and forty yards, 
so entirely commanded the star redoubt, that it became 
necessary to give its parapet, already twelve feet high, 
three feet more of elevation ; which was done by means 
of sandbags, small intervals between which were left for 
the use of small arms. The withdrawal of the bags by 
mght, left embrazures for the cannon, which could thus 
be pointed capriciously, without suffering the assailants 
to conjecture in what quarter they would next appear. 

Thus, with a stubbornness and perseverance, on both 
sides, which amply testified the common origin of the 
several combatants, they lay watching each other. The 
pressing energy of the one, was nobly met by the 
unflinching constancy of the other. For eighteen days 
had the conflict continued: and, at this moment, not a 
man could show his head on either side without draw- 
ing the fire of his enemy. It was seldom that the bullet 
was sped in vain. Much blood had been already shed. 
Many were the gallant deeds performed on both sides — 
on that of the garrison, apparently, in vain. Sanguine 
of the result, now apparently at hand, the soldiers of 
Greene looked forward to a grateful termination of their 
toils in the surrender of the fortress. A corresponding 
gloom, which was only not despair, had fastened upon 
the hearts of their opponents. Their resources were 
diminishing, their strength momently lessening, their 
hope exhausted. They knew nothing of the reinforce- 
ments received by Rawdon — knew nothing of his 
approach for their relief. Their minds were prepared 



RAWDON APPROACHES TO RELIEVE THE GARRISON. 241 

for the catastrophe which seemed mevitable ; when, at 
the moment of their greatest despondency, they received 
tidinors of succor, and were inviQ;-orated to new efforts in 
the contest. The facts were these ; — they mingle a little 
romance with the dull details of ordinary matters. — 

There was a young lady, the daughter and sister of 
tried and honored patriots, who resided at a place not 
far distant from the American camp. Unsuspected, she 
visited the camp, with a flag, on some pretence of little 
moment. She was received with civility, and dined at 
the table of the general. It was not known that she 
was the betrothed of a British officer then in the garri- 
son. Subsequently, however, it was discovered that she 
had remained for a day or two at a neighboring farm- 
house. In this period, a young loyalist, well mounted, 
dashed through the American line of pickets, and, by 
the rapidity of his flight, baffled the sudden fire which 
he drew from the sentinels. His audacity, and the nar- 
row escape which he ran, were a sufficient passport for 
his admission to the garrison. He brought the tidings, 
in a verbal message from Lord Rawdon, "vyhich gave 
new life to the garrison. His news was too grateful to 
be questioned. Their huzzas, and an animated feu de 
joie, announced his mission to the besiegers, and indi- 
cated the newborn resolution which now defied their 
utmost effi:)rts. 

It now became necessary that the place should be 
carried by storm. With Rawdon approaching, and the 
garrison in possession of the fact, there was no chance 
of a more pacific termination of the siege. Accord- 
ingly, the resolution having been taken, the several de- 
tachments of the besiegers were ready by twelve, on 
the morning of the 18th of June, to attempt the assault; 
— hot work for hot weather. Lee was to command in 
the assault upon the stockade. His forlorn hope was 
21 



242 LIFE OP NATIIANAEL GREENE. 

led by Rudolph, supported by the infantry of the legion, 
and the remains, of the gallant Delawares under Kirk- 
wood. The forlorn hope against the star redoubt was 
led by Lieutenants Duval and Seldon, — the one with a 
command of Marylanders, and the other of Virginians. 
They were followed by Colonel Campbell at the head 
of the first Maryland and first Virginia regiments, by 
whom the assault was to be made. The American 
forts, the rifle-towers, and the advanced works, were all 
manned, with orders to sweep and clear the enemy's 
parapet during the advance of the storming party. Par- 
ties bearing fascines to fill the ditches, others armed with 
long poles barbed with hooks of iron to pull down the 
sandbags, followed in the footsteps of the forlorn hopes, 
the tasks of which, particularly in the attempt on the 
star redoubt, were sufficiently perilous. They were to 
advance, under the numerous crossfires of its angles, to 
clear the abatis, and, driving off* the defenders, occupy 
the curtain opposite them, while the bookmen drew the 
sandbags from the walls. This servif*e done, Campbell, 
with his two regiments, was to gam the summit and 
finish the work. 

The American works were manned, accordingly, with 
riflemen prepared to sweep the enemy's parapets. Pre- 
cisely at noon, the signal for the assault was given. 
Then followed a blaze of fire from artillery and small 
arms, from right to left, all concentrating on the centre 
of attack. Under this cloud of fire and storm, the assail- 
ing parties rushed to the assault. No effort could have 
been more nobly impulsive, or more resolutely main- 
tained. In an instant, this gallant little band had crossed 
the ditch and commenced the work of destroying the 
abatis. They were encountered by a terrible fire from 
within the works, the severity of which naturally in- 
creased with the increased destruction of the abatis. 



ATTEMPT TO STORM THE REDOUBT. 243 

From every crevice in the sandbags, the rifle poured 
forth its deadly missile — a constant stream, to w^hich 
the assailants could oppose nothing but unflinching ob- 
stinacy in the prosecution of their tasks. It was in vain 
that they opposed their constancy to this destructive fire. 
Pikes and bayonets bristled above them, defying their 
approach, and mocking their endeavors. Between two 
angles of the redoubt, the discharges of both swept their 
columns with unsparing rage. Their bravest were the 
first to fall. The gallant Captain Armstrong, of the 1st 
Marylanders, was struck down, among the first, at the 
head of his company. Duval and Seldon were both 
severely wounded. But they pressed forward, encour- 
aging their commands, till the curtain was won, and the 
bookmen, promptly following while the other fought, 
strove to pull down the sandbags from their elevations. 
The attainment of this object might have secured the 
victory ; but they had greatly miscalculated the depth 
of the ditch and the height of the parapet. The sand- 
bags were above .their reach, and their toils were taken 
in vain. 

This was a melancholy misfortune. Greene saw with 
anguish the fruitlessness of the struggle. The prey was 
about to escape his grasp. The fight had continued for 
nearly an hour, and but little had been achieved. The 
stockade had been won, with little risk, by Lee's party, 
led by Rudolph ; the enemy having concentrated them- 
selves, for the final struggle, in the star. But this ad- 
vantage was of little moment. No impression had been 
made on the formidable redoubt, which had been the 
main object of the enterprise. The greater part of the 
assailing party had fallen, either slain or wounded, in the 
ditch. It was possible that success might attend a con- 
tinuance of the conflict. Lee was prepared to sustain 
the movement on the right. The assailing party had 



244 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. 

been, comparatively, a small one, and repeated efforts, 
with larger parties, might result more fortunately. But, 
with Rawdon aj^proaching with a fresh army, Greene 
dared not wait the doubtful issues of the conflict. 
Even if successful in the storm, yet what could be his 
hope against the now full regiments of the British, with 
a greatly crippled army. Reluctantly, he gave the order 
to retire. Lee was recalled ; Campbell commanded to 
desist; and the survivors in the strife, bringing back 
with them the greater number of their wounded com- 
rades, escaped in the face of a galling fire, which the 
garrison delivered as they retired. 



SPIRITS OF THE TROOPS. 245 



CHAPTER XVII. 

Greene retreats from Ninety-Six. — Is pursued by Rawdon. — The latter 
evacuates Ninetj'-Six, and retires toward the Seaboard. — Greene turns 
upon and pursues him. — Various Movements of the Armies. — Rawdon 
at Orangeburg. — Greene offers him Battle. — He declines it. — Is 
strengthened by Cruger, and Greene retires and encamps among the 
High^illsof Santee. 

The cup of triumph was once more plucked from the 
lips of the Americans, at the very moment when the pre- 
cious draught seemed to be secure. Greene was not 
much the favorite of fortune. What he achieved seemed 
to be in her despite. The siege of Ninety-Six had lasted 
twenty-eight days. In its progress he had lost nearly 
two hundred men killed and wounded ; but, even with 
this disappointment of his object, and this diminution of 
his force, he found some reasons for hope and consola- 
tion. The constancy and spirit which his troops had 
shown, were full of the happiest auguries. They were 
beginning to reap, obviously, all the advantages which 
qualify the mortification of defeat, and prepare for a 
grateful change of fortune. There was no longer dan- 
ger that they would again suffer from such a panic as 
lost them the field of Hobkirk, and Greene had not so 
much to regret in his failure before Ninety-Six except the 
loss of so many admirable soldiers. With adequate num- 
bers, trained like these, he should no longer shrink from 
a pitched battle with his enemy. In his despatches to 
Congi'ess, he expresses this confidence and satisfaction. 
" The behavior of the troops on this occasion deserves 
the highest commendation. . . They have undergone in- 
21* 



246 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

credible hardships during the siege. . . Had the Virginia 
militia joined us, agreeably to orders, success would have 
been complete." He did not withdraw from the leaguer 
too precipitately. Rawdon's army was almost within 
striking distance. He was but a few miles off when the 
last struggle was made, and the storming party was rush- 
ing to the breach. The force of Rawdon was more than 
two thousand men ; too large a force for the detachments 
under Sumter and Marion to oppose. He was also strong 
in cavalry. They could only hang upon his flanks ; and 
even in the performance of this duty, an unfortunate 
facility of route, which enabled Rawdon to choose at 
pleasure, and almost at any moment, required that the 
forces of the partisans should be so scattered as, if pos- 
sible, to keep a watch on all. The same circumstance 
prevented Sumter from calling in his detachments, and 
pressing for Ninety-Six in season to enable Greene, thus 
strengthened, to advance and choose the proper ground 
for an advantageous meeting with his lordship. For this 
Greene was anxious. He writes with great earnestness on 
this subject to all the partisans. " It is my wish to meet 
him," is the language of one of these letters, " and I 
doubt not of victory if the virtuous militia collect and 
fight with their usual gallantry. Come on, then, my good 
friend, and bring Lieutenant-Colonel Jackson with you, 
and all the good troops you have collected. Let us have 
a field-day, and I doubt not it will be a glorious one. No 
time is to be lost, — be here to-morrow evening at far- 
thest." This was written on the 17th. It was on the 
18th that the attempt was made to storm the post at 
Ninety-Six. But the virtuous militia did not arrive in 
season, and the approach of Rawdon rendered the at- 
tempt to storm, and the subsequent retreat, indispensa- 
ble. Greene, therefore, on the 19th, moved off, on the 
track of his baggage, previously sent, across the Saluda. 



GREENE RETREATS FROM NINETY-SIX. 247 

This retrogi-acle movement, as usual, affected the enthu- 
siasm of the mihtia. Of four regiments of volunteers, 
under Sumter, every man left him in a- single day. 
Marion was only less unfortunate. The fluctuations of 
the spirits of an army can only be counteracted by the 
imperative necessity of the service ; by the conviction 
on the part of the soldiers, that, through good or ill 
fortune, they have no refuge but in camp. The lessons 
of the revolutionary w^ar were incessant, and of the 
most impressive character, which taught the absurdity of 
any other process for raising troops among the militia, than 
that which binds them to the business for the whole war. 
Greene's retreat, once begun, was pressed with little 
intermission for twenty-two miles. It was well that he 
could retreat. He had shown his troops that such a ne- 
cessity implies feebleness but not discredit, and some- 
times, indeed, supplies what is equal to a victory. At 
all events, his soldiers had learned to endure, without too 
great a degree of humiliation, this usually humiliating 
necessity. Had Greene been a more rash and impulsive 
man, he might have recoiled, at the risk of their safety 
and his own reputation, at the inevitable misfortune; and 
by giving way to his pride against his judgment, have 
forfeited the stakes he played for. But, in truth, retreat 
did not imply, in his case, the disappointment of his ob- 
jects. He was simply driven, for the moment, from his 
prey, which, events had shown, was destined to fall into 
his hands at last. Thus had he been hunted and pursued 
by Cornwallis, yet the latter had been exhausted by the 
very advantages he had won, while the American gen- 
eral, soon recovering, was pressing forward to a renewal 
of his efforts. To Cornwallis, Rawdon had succeeded ; 
and Greene was twice — soon to be thrice — driven 
before him. Yet, all the while, the strongholds of the 
British were falling into the hands of his detachments, 



248 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. 

and he was ready, the moment that his pursuer had given 
up the chase, to turn upon his footsteps and renew his 
enterprises. These characteristics of the warfare he pur- 
sued, well understood among his followers, had now ta- 
ken the sting from partial defeat, and the humiliation 
from flight. Retreat was only a part of the game, and 
not an unforeseen disaster. It was, in other words, that 
process of muscular contraction which is necessary to a 
becoming future exercise of strength ; such a contrac- 
tion as the individual makes, when, seeking to spring 
far, he crouches low. Cheerfully then, and- in good 
spirits, strengthened by their past experience, the troops 
of Greene made their way over Bush river, and, with the 
tidings of Rawdon's advance, sped on yet farther across 
the rivers Enoree, Tyger, and Broad, halting, on the 25th, 
at a place called Tim's Ordinaiy, about half way between 
the Broad and the Catawba rivers. Rawdon pushed for- 
ward to the Enoree, but found the pursuit to be equally 
impolitic and vain. Greene had swept the country in 
his progress, and was in due route to his magazines 
on the Catawba. Rawdon, moving from his own, felt 
momently the increasing want of supplies, his foragers 
not daring to venture far in the face of two strong de- 
tachments of cavalry and light-infantry, under Washing- 
ton and Lee, accompanied by Greene himself, that sul- 
lenly preceded the pursuit. The army of the Americans, 
meanwhile, continued its march under Colonel Williams. 
Greene had gained another of his victories when Raw- 
don abandoned the pursuit. He had the fate of Corn- 
wallis before him, whose pursuit of Greene, continued 
into three states, had, by a curious coincidence, begun 
at the very spot where his successor deemed it wiser to 
forbear. It might be that Rawdon was less influenced 
by this ominous coincidence than we have reason to sup- 
pose. Other considerations may have governed him in 



BRITISH ABANDON NINETY-SIX. 249 

abandoning the chase. His troops were fresh from Eu- 
rope, had marched nearly two hundred and fifty miles 
in less than twelve days, and, clad in thick garments, 
were far less able to withstand the melting heats of the 
climate in midsummer, than the Americans, who were 
little burdened with any clothing. His return to Nine- 
ty-Six revealed still farther the difficulties of his govern- 
ment. That place was to be abandoned also. Remote 
from the seaboard, it could no longer be maintained. 
The toils were closing momently around the invader, and 
he was compelled, however reluctantly, to draw in all 
the troops from his outposts, — to contract his antennge. 

JThis necessity, if humbling to the British, was pregnant 
with still worse conditions to their tory allies. Ninety-Six 
had been the very centre of their wantonness and power. 
Here, encouraged by the foreign emissary, they had run 
full riot over the whig inhabitants. In the simple con- 
sciousness of strength, they had indulged it in excess, 
and the surrounding country had been ravaged by their 
gross and terrible barbarities. When, therefore, sum- 
moning their chiefs around him, Rawdon declared the 
necessity of withdrawing the British garrison from the 
post, a terror which they had never felt before seized 
upon their apprehensions. This was to abandon them 
to the just vengeance of their enemies. The day of 
retribution was come. They felt what was due to their 
atrocities, and shrunk from the tender mercies of the 
avenger. There was but one alternative before them, 
and that they adopted. This was to abandon the coun- 
try and to follow that foreign power to which, and their 
own passions, they had sold themselves, and which alone 
could give them protection. Melancholy was the specta- 
cle that followed. Trooping slowly and gloomily in the 
van and rear of the British army, went the families of 
this unhappy faction. For days the roads from Ninety-Six 



250 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

were crowded with a wretched cavalcade, men, women, 
children, and slaves, with cattle and wagons, seeking 
the protection of the British army on its way to the sea- 
board. They were leaving their homesteads at the most 
endearing season. The whole country was looking most 
beautiful in the vigorous warmth of the maturing sum- 
mer. Their fields, paved in green and gold, with the 
growing harvests, and fruits and flowers on every hand, 
imploring them to stay, compelled tears from eyes that 
had not often sho^n pity to their fellow-creatures. Con- 
scious of their own brutal rage and the hardness of heart 
with which, in the season of their prosperity and power, 
they had regarded their unhappy brethren among t]ie 
whigs, they could hope for no mercy from them in the 
day which found the position of the parties reversed. 
They did not dare to make the experiment upon sympa- 
thies which they had so commonly joyed to outrage ; 
and, followed by keen eyes of vengeance, as they clung 
to the shelter of the British, on their downward march, 
they made their way, a melancholy and doomed commu- 
nity, to the neighborhood of Charleston, where a misera- 
ble hamlet, called Rawdontown, in the suburbs of the 
city, gave them temporary shelter ; but where pestilence, 
and the diseases of an unfriendly climate, soon thinned 
their numbers, leaving but few to burden the retiring 
vessels of the enemy when they finally left the country. 
Such as remained in the interior suffered more summa- 
rily, but it is doubtful if from a severer fate. The re- 
turning whigs, desperate from ruined circumstances, and 
protracted injuries, pursued their vengeance with a sleep- 
less appetite wherever they could find a victim. The 
country was depopulated, and in spite of the strenuous 
efforts of Greene to meliorate the sufferings of the peo- 
ple, or, rather, their rage, he was but too frequently com- 
pelled to hear of cruelties which shocked humanity, and 



GREENE TURNS UPON RAWDON. 251 

of bloody revenges for past crimes, over which humanity 
could only weep. The time that he could spare from 
the enemy, was devoted to the most earnest endeavors 
to soothe the passions and disarm the fury of the people ; 
but his toils were only in part successful. It is estima- 
ted that the civil war in Ninety-Six District alone left 
fifteen hundred widows to deplore its horrors. 

In retracing his steps toward the seaboard, and with- 
drawing the forces from Ninety-Six, Lord Rawdon di- 
vided his army into two nearly equal bodies. One of 
these bodies, under Cruger, was employed to cover the 
departure of the Loyalists ; while the other, consisting of 
eleven hundred infantry, sixty cavalry, and two compa- 
nies of artillery,jinder his own command, took up the 
line of march, on the 29th of June, for Orangeburg, at 
which place he had instructed Colonel Stuart, with a 
stronof detachment, to meet him. The sio^nal for his de- 
parture was that of the return of Greene upon his track. 
He had already anticipated the necessity for the retreat 
of Rawdon, and provided against it. Lee, with his 
legion, was ordered to hover about the post of Ninety- 
Six, and to strike whenever an opportunity offered. 
Washington, with his cavalry and the infantry of Kirk- 
wood, was to keep near the enemy at Orangeburg, with 
a similar purpose. Sumter was instructed to descend the 
country, and to co-operate with Marion in pursuit of the 
common object ; while Greene, himself, with the main 
army, taking the route toward Granby, was to determine 
his own by the movements of the enemy. The progress 
of the latter seemed to indicate a design upon the posts 
which the Americans had recently reconquered; and the 
apprehensions of Greene were still lively lest Rawdon 
should organize garrisons along the route from Ninety- 
Six, out of the bands of loyalists about him, with which 
his foreign reinforcements enabled him to dispense for 



252 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

the present. Greene's object, in this pursuit, and in the 
employment of his light troops, was to prevent any such 
design from being put into execution, and, gradually, to 
compel his adversary to retire once more within that 
range of inferior posts with which he had environed 
himself in the neighborhood of the sea. This was his 
desire and design — a design to be put in execution only 
when his recruits should sufficiently increase the strength 
of his army. This was still greatly inferior to that of 
Rawdon, but improving daily under the active agency 
of Marion and Sumter. The militia were once more 
gathering about their favorite leaders, under the encour- 
aging effect produced by the retrograde movement of 
Rawdon ; and a small detachment of continentals, and 
some two hundred and fifty North Carolina levies, under 
Major Armstrong, presented themselves at camp at a 
moment when it most needed favoring auguries. But 
the season was unfavorable to enterprise. The heat 
was excessive ; and Greene found it necessary to give 
his army a couple of days of rest. Meanwhile, the ob- 
jects of the British commander continued doubtful, and 
the American general remained in a state of the most 
anxious suspense. His opinion was, that Rawdon medita- 
ted a retreat ; but this might only be a feint. He might 
really desire to fall within his new line of posts ; but it 
might be his purj)ose to establish himself on the Conga- 
ree, and compass, within his power, the country between 
the Edisto to the west, and that of the Congaree and 
Santee to the north and east. Such, really, was his in- 
tention ; but it was not until the first of July that his 
object became known to the American general. A let- 
ter of Stuart, which Washington had intercepted, advised 
Rawdon of his march, but gave him to understand that 
he could not reach Granby, whither the latter had sum- 
moned him, by the time specified — namely, the 3d of 



LEE CUTS OFF THE BRITISH HORSE. 253 

July. Advised, at the same time, by Lee, that Rawdoii, 
relying on this junction with Stuart, had ventured to 
divide his forces equally vs^ith Cruger, and was marching 
toward Granby in the fullest confidence that the meeting 
would be effected at the designated time, suggested to 
Greene the prospect of an enterprise for which he im- 
mediately put his troops in motion. If he could succeed 
in throwing himself between Rawdon and his detach- 
ments, he might destroy him i^i detail. Disembarrassing 
itself of everything which might imjDede the march, the 
army was put under the command of General Huger, 
with orders to press on to the Congaree. Greene, him- 
self, with a small escort of cavalry, hurried off in search 
of Colonel Washington, and in order that he might ob- 
serve more nearly those indications by which his ulterior 
measures were to be directed. 

The forward movement of the American army, and 
possibly the nonarrival of any courier with advices from 
Stuart, appears to have awakened the apprehensions of 
Rawdon. He now urged his own march with an obvi- 
ous anxiety to reach Granby in anticipation of the Amer- 
icans. His progress was attended with some misfortunes, 
Avhich probably increased his desire to hasten forward. 
Lee's cavalry, by which his retreating footsteps were 
harassed and haunted, succeeded in cutting off nearly 
the whole of the British horse, taking forty-five of them 
prisoners when within but a mile of their army. This event 
exaggerated the alarm of Rawdon, and his speed was 
increased with but small regard to the health and com- 
fort of his troops, more than fifty of whom fell dead from 
heat and fatigue, in the progress from Ninety-Six to 
Orangeburg. But he succeeded in his object, and 
reached Granby two days in advance of that which he 
had appointed for the rendezvous with Stuart, and, con- 
sequently, before Greene was ready to present himself 
22 



S54 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

at the same point of junction. This point gained, Raw- 
don hngered only long enough to destroy the boats for 
some distance along the river, and then, chiefly solicitous 
for his detachments, pressed forward immediately to 
Orangeburg, where he took up a strong position, await- 
ing the arrival of Stuart and Cruger. He had gained a 
position of safety, with desperate exertions that did not 
scruple at great sacrifice of life in the prosecution of his 
purpose. 

Foiled of his prey, Greene had other hopes in reserve. 
Apprized, through a deserter, of a large supply of stores 
which were on the march to Orangeburg, he laid a plan 
for securing them. These stores were of vital impor- 
tance to the British, and their loss might eventually lead 
to the destruction of the army. They were a tempting 
bait to the Americans, to whom they were almost as im- 
portant. But the well-concerted measures failed, and 
the next object was to attempt the detachment under 
Stuart. Greene, at the head of the corps of Marion and 
Washington, resolved to lead this enterprise in person. 
He succeeded in passing Lord Rawdon on the 6th of 
July, and Marion placed himself in waiting for his prey. 
But the good fortune of the British general had not 
deserted him. Sallying out, at one o'clock, on the morn- 
ing of the 8th, expecting to take his prey, Marion, to his 
utter discomfiture, found that Stuart had passed him in 
the night. Unconscious of his danger, and influenced 
only by a choice of roads, the British colonel had turned 
aside into one, while his enemy was seeking for him in 
another. The miserable deficiency of force, thus fre- 
quently prevented the Americans from realizing the 
best-laid plans of enterprise. On the day of the junction 
of Stuart with Rawdon, a letter from Marion shows 
how little the British army was in a condition to fight or 
fly. He writes : " Their troops are so fatigued that they 



GREENE OFFERS RAWDON BATTLE. 255 

can not possibly move. Three regiments were going to 
lay clown their arms, and it is believed they will to-day, 
if they are ordered to march. They have no idea of any 
force being near them." 

Greene was anxious, but in no condition, to take ad- 
vantage of this disorganization in the ranks of the enemy, 
Rawdon soon recruited his troops by repose, and his 
position was too strongly sheltered to be attempted by 
the troops of the American general. With the defeat 
of the attempt upon Stuart, he had retraced his steps to 
the army, and calling in his detachments on the Conga- 
ree, and finding himself in unusual strength, with fully 
two thousand troops, including the men of Marion and 
Sumter, he prepared to march down and offer battle to 
his enemy. The advantage of numbers was with Greene. 
The force of Rawdon, with that of Stuart, did not ex- 
ceed fifteen hundred ; but they were all disciplined 
troops, and well equipped and supplied with necessaries. 
Of the American army, but eight hundred were regulars. 
The cavalry of the latter was, however, much the best, 
that of the British being exceedingly feeble in numbers, 
and deficient in that confidence in itself which alone in- 
sures the usefulness of this important arm of battle. 

It was highly important that Greene, if he hoped to 
engage the enemy, should do so before the junction with 
Cruorer should be effected. In that case, his .streng-th 
would so greatly preponderate as to leave the contest 
hopeless. Cruger was on his march, and rapidly ap- 
proaching Orangeburg, only watched by the militia 
under Pickens — a force neither sufficiently strong nor 
sufficiently practised to retard the advance of the British 
detachment, consisting of twelve or fourteen hundred 
men. To anticipate his coming, Greene appeared 
within four miles of Orangeburg, and offered Rawdon 
battle. The latter took no notice of the demonstration. 



256 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

and the certainty of Cruger's approach compelled 
Greene to move up with the hope of forcing his adver- 
sary to the deadly issue. But a careful examination of 
Rawdon's position, determined him against the measure, 
and, very reluctantly, and against the advice of many 
whom he was disposed to respect, he withdrew from the 
field. The temptation was not inconsiderable, but the 
risk was still less so. He dared not peril unnecessarily 
a cause which he felt that patience and caution must 
eventually secure. Accordingly, withdrawing, by slow 
and easy marches, he retired to a camp of repose among 
the high hills of Santee, a beautiful and salubrious 
region, where he gave to his wearied soldiers the rest 
and respite which they so grievously required. Cruger, 
meanwhile, reaching Orangeburg, so strengthened the 
command of Rawdon as to leave him in no pres- 
ent danger of a challenge from his enemy. The for- 
mer had not descended from Ninety-Six without 
leaving his mark upon the country. Left at Ninety-Six 
to cover the flight of the loyalist families, and while 
awaiting their assembling, he despatched a swarm of 
tories, accompanied by a small regular force, into what 
was called the Long-Cane settlement. This expedition 
afforded to the vindictive loyalists a chance of striking a 
last blow at their ancient enemies. Their ravages were 
of a kind to afford a sufficient sanction to the assertion 
that orders had been given by the British commander to 
lay the country waste — a measure of wanton barbarity 
which had no justification in necessity. They swept the 
country with sword and fire, checked only by the timely 
arrival of Pickens and Clarke, with their followers, by 
whom the dastardly marauders were once more driven 
to seek shelter under the guns of their British allies. 
Eickens could only watch, and follow, and threaten. 
His force was too small to retard the progress of an 



THE ARMIES RETIRE INTO CAMP. 257 

enemy whose aimless barbarities had entirely placed 
him without the pale of humanity and mercy. The 
junction of Cruger with Rawdon would have soon 
brought the latter out from his place of security, in 
search of Greene, but for the timely retreat which 
placed the Congaree between the rival armies. 



22* 



258 LIFE OP NATIIANAEL GREENE. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

Incursion of the Partisans under Sumter into the Lower Countiy. — Cap- 
ture of Dorchester. — Alarm in Charleston. — Attempt on the Post at 
Biggins. — Abandoned by the British. — Pursuit of Coates. — Affair at 
duinby Bridge. — Battle at Shubi-ick's. 

A RETROSPECT of the campaign just closed, affords us 
a curious illustration of the caprices and fluctuations of 
the war. We see Cornwallis, superior in strength and 
eager for combat, pursuing the American general from 
the Catawba river, in South Carolina, across the Dan, 
in Virginia. We remark that, at the very moment of 
the greatest seeming superiority in the former, he wheels 
about and recedes before his adversary. We see that 
adversary, conscious of inferiority, yet pressing on his 
heels ; and the combat which follows, while giving the 
victory to the enemy, secures most of its fruits to the 
defeated Americans. The game is again reversed, and 
Cornwallis, the pursuer, is pursued, and finally escapes 
to Virginia. Greene resumes his plan of invading South 
Carolina and recovering its territory in detail. He 
crosses weapons with Rawdon, is compelled to fly be- 
fore him, yet grows stronger from every defeat, seemingly 
like the ancient wrestler, to receive new life and vigor 
at every fall upon his native earth. His adversary pur- 
sues, until, in a state of exhaustion, he pauses for breath, 
only to find his enemy upon his path again. In the mean- 
while, his fortresses are taken by assault, or he is forced 
to abandon them. Steadily and inflexibly the American 
pursues his object. Retreat forms a part of his system, 



THE CAMP OF REPOSE. 259 

as in the case of the Parthian, and his followers are en- 
couraged even by seeming discomfiture, as it usually 
results, under their present leader, in a large increase of 
strenofth. His calculations have all been realized ; his 
schemes have been successful ; he has conquered with- 
out loss : and, when baffled, it has been chiefly still at 
the expense of the enemy. His very caution, which has 
sometimes had the effect of lessening the brilliancy of his 
exploits, has economized his forces, and left them assured 
and confident of the wholesome authority which they 
obey. His camp of rest upon the hills did not imply 
repose. In this salubrious region, in which his soldiers 
found refuge from the 'diseases of summer and the cli- 
mate, not a moment was consumed in idleness. The 
combatants had separated for a season, only to recruit 
the strength necessary to a renewal of the conflict. The 
task before G-reene was one of unremitting watchfulness 
and study. His troops were suffering from sickness and 
exhaustion. To refresh the whole, to restore the sick, 
to accumulate clothes and provisions, and discipline the 
inexperienced, were employments of the camp which 
employed every hour of his time. There were other 
cares of a more general and comprehensive character. 
To invite the co-operation and assistance of the contigu- 
ous states, by earnest and frequent entreaty and expos- 
tulation — to suggest and indicate their measures — to 
establish magazines in secure and convenient places — 
to connect his several points of communication — to 
secure the means of transportation — these were tasks 
which kept him wakeful through the weary watches of 
the night. 

The repose of the regular army among the Santee hills 
did not imply the inactivity of the partisans. It was one 
of the chief uses of a regular army in South Carolina, 
that it enabled the whig militia to rise into activity. As 



260 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

the presence of a British army, in force, had overawed 
the whigs and encouraged the audacity of the tories, so 
the army of Greene, in due degree with its abiUty to 
restrain and watch the movements of the British, gave 
opportunity to the friends of the revolution to encounter 
their ancient enemies. With the increase of popular con- 
fidence in the prudence and soldiership of the American 
general, the partisan militia gathered to their favorite 
leaders. These, accustomed to the climate, familiar 
with the country, and mostly mounted, were capable of 
rendering active service while the two opposing armies 
were in summer-quarters. Accordingly, the moment 
that Greene crossed the Congaree, on his march to his 
camp of repose, he organized an expedition of the par- 
tisans, directing their operations in the lower country. 
The command of this expedition was given to Sumter. 
Under him were such chieftains as have not often been 
gathered under a single leader. Marion and Lee, the 
Hampdens, and Colonels Taylor, Horry, Maham, Lacy, 
and others, gave ample assurances that the work in hand 
would most probably be well done. The command con- 
sisted of all the troops of the state, of Lee's legion, 
and a small detachment of artillery with one field-piece 
— in all about a thousand men. Its object was to strike 
at outposts, inspirit the whigs, and divert the attention of 
Rawdon from the country above, by provoking his fears 
for the security of that below him. In his orders to 
Sumter, Greene writes : " There is no time to be lost. 
Push your operations night and day. Keep a party to 
watch the enemy's motions at Orangeburg, as they move 
down. Should they move in any other direction, I will 
advise you. Keep Colonel Lee and General Marion 
advised of all matters from above, and tell Colonel Lee 
to thunder even at the gates of Charleston," &c. 

Sumter's detachments were soon sweeping down by 



MOVEMENTS OF THE PARTISANS. 261 

every road that led to Charleston. He, himself, with the 
main body of his force, pursued the Congaree, on the 
south side of that river, then the east side of the Cooper. 
The incursion, thus begun, was full of the happiest re- 
sults. For a while it prostrated every appearance of 
royal power almost to the gates of the metropolis, and 
drove the enemy from all quarters to seek shelter within 
its walls. Lee made his appearance at a fortunate mo- 
ment before the post at Dorchester. It was a field ripe 
for the sickle. The garrison had been greatly reduced 
by the draught made on it by Stuart, and a bloody mutiny 
among the residue, which was only quelled by the massa- 
cre of more than a hundred men, almost entirely deprived 
the place of all power of resistance. At the approach 
of Lee it was hastily abandoned, the garrison making 
their escape to Charleston. The Americans succeeded 
in seizing a valuable spoil, consisting of a couple of hun- 
dred horses, and some wagons of fixed ammunition. This 
done, Lee, in connexion with Colonel Wade Hampton, 
passing on to the east of Dorchester by the Wassama- 
saw, to Goose creek bridge, cut off the communication 
between Dorchester and Monk's corner, and between 
the latter place and Charleston, by the route west of 
Cooper river, A detachment of Marion's men, under 
Colonel Maham, passing the head of Cooper river and 
Watboo creek, penetrated below, eastward of Biggin 
church, in order, by destroying the bridge over the 
creek, to obstruct the retreat of the garrison at the latter 
place. Meanwhile, the better to hold these several par- 
ties advised of any movement of Rawdon's troops at 
Orangeburg, Colonel Henry Hampton seized and held, 
w^ith a strong party, the bridge over Four-Hole creek, 
he, himself, moving off afterward to co-operate with 
Lee. It would be difficult to conceive a plan of opera- 
tions better calculated to effect the objects of the expe- 



262 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. 

dition. With tlie abandonment by the Biiti.sh of the 
post at Dorchester, Colonel Wade Hampton, anticipating- 
the march of his confederate, Lee, dashed down the road 
to Charleston, capturing more than fifty dragoons in the 
march, and, suddenly appearing almost beneath the lines 
of the city, spread terror and confusion within its walls. 
With the conviction that G-reene's whole araiy was at 
his heels, the bells were rung, alarm-guns were fired, and 
the entire population was mustered out in amis. Con- 
tent with thus disquieting them, Hampton retired, and 
proceeded to unite himself with the force of Sumter. 
Lee moved in the same direction, and with the same 
object. The particular point at which Sumter aimed 
to strike, was the post at Biggin church. This church, 
within a mile of Monk's cornei', was a strong brick 
building which the Biitish had fortified and gamsoned. 
It covered the bridge which crossed Biggin creek, which 
is esteemed the head of the West branch of Cooper 
river. On the east of this creek the road to Charleston 
passes Watboo and Q,uinby creeks, between which the 
road forks and crosses the latter, considered the East 
fork of the liver, at two several points ; the left at Quinby 
bridge, the right at Bonneau's ferry. From 'Biggin 
bridge, the only route westwardly to Charleston, crosses 
at Goose creek bridge. To destroy the bridge at Wat- 
boo, was the object of the Americans, as the eastern 
route then became impracticable. The biidge, accord- 
ingly, became the object of interest with both parties. 
It happened, unfortunately, that Sumter, on his march, 
received false intelligence of a British detachment ap- 
pearing at MuiTay's ferry. This place lay without the 
line of his march, and he lost time in sending a force 
of three hundred men to strike at the hostile party. 
The delay and the movement suggested the danger to 
the gaiTison at Biggin's, and gave time for it to obtain 



AFFAIR AT BIGGIN. 263 

reinforcements. When Mayham, who had been sent by 
Marion to destroy the bridge, drew nigh for this purpose, 
he found the enemy in too much strength to permit him 
to make the effort. He was obHged to wait patiently for 
the approach of Sumter. The garrison at Biggin con- 
sisted of five hundred discipHned infantry, being the 19th 
regiment, under CoL Coates, with a piece of artillery and 
a full complement of one hundred and fifty horse. On 
the 16th July, Sumter marched up to support Mayham's 
attempt upon the bridge. Reinforcing his party with a 
detachment under Col. Horry, the command devolved 
upon the latter, who instantly proceeded to the destruc- 
tion of the bridge. To prevent this, the enemy's cavalry 
advanced, and were encountered with such rough hand- 
ling that they were driven back in confusion. The 
Americans then proceeded t® their work, but were soon 
driven off* by the appearance of the British in such force 
as to compel the retreat of the detachment to the shelter 
of the main body. Under the impression that the enemy 
had marched out to give him battle, Sumter retired to a 
defile a little distance in his. rear, which he had selected 
as a favorable spot for receiving the attack. But the 
purpose of the British colonel was more profound. His 
object was to amuse his antagonist and wear out the day. 
Retiring, accordingly, as the evening approached, after 
such a demonstration as served to keep up the impres- 
sion that he was in search of a fight, he obtained the time 
that he desired. Night came on, and it^was only at three 
in the morning that the flames bursting from the roof of 
the church, declared the enemy to be in motion. He had 
collected all his stores within the church, set them on 
fire, and moved off by Watboo and Quinby, on the road 
to the eastward 

The pursuit was instantly begun, led by Lee and 
Hampton. When the Watboo was passed, it was dis- 



264 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

covered that the cavaky of the British, separated from 
the infantry, was pursuing the road to the right. Hamp- 
ton struck off in pursuit of this body, and reached the 
river only to find the enemy on the opposite side, with 
all the boats in his possession. Darting back upon his 
route, he arrived in season only to witness the escape 
of their infantry ; an event accruing, perhaps, in con- 
sequence of the diversion in pursuit of their cavalry. 
This body of troops had been pursued by the legion 
cavalry, seconded by that of Marion under Mayham. 
About a mile to the north of Quinby bridge, they suc- 
ceeded in overtaking the rear of the retreating army, 
with nearly the whole of the baggage. This division 
of Coates's force, consisting of one hundred men, was 
commanded by Captain Campbell. At first, they made 
a show of resistance, but such was the furious charge of 
the cavalry, that it overwhelmed them, and they threw 
down their arms without firing a gun. This imbecility 
had nearly involved the fate of the whole regiment. 
Unapprized of their disaster, since not a shot was fired, 
Coates, having passed the bridge, had made his disj^osi- 
tions for destroying it as soon as his rear had passed in 
safety. The planks which covered it had already been 
loosened from the sleepers, and men stood ready to 
throw them off at the proper moment. A howitzer at 
the opposite extremity was planted for the protection of 
the party assigned for its destruction, and the com- 
mander of the British force stood waiting impatiently 
at the bridge for the coming of the rear. It was fortu- 
nate that he was thus prepared, and thus present, at the 
place of danger. The American cavalry dashing into 
view, instead of the British rear, warned him of his dan- 
ger, and found him ready to employ the proper means 
for meeting it. His measures were promptly taken. 
His main body was, at this time, partly on the causeway, 



ik 




AFFAIR AT QUINBY. 265 

on the south side of the bridge, and partly crowded 
into a narrow lane beyond it, in a position which not 
only disabled them from present service, but left them 
particularly exposed to destruction, should the im- 
petus of the American cavalry carry them across the 
bridge. To despatch orders to his troops to halt, form, 
and march up, and to make his artillerists ready to em- 
ploy the howitzer, while his fatigue-party were opening 
a chasm between his assailants and himself, by thrusting 
the planks into the water, were necessities instantly con- 
ceived and as instantly set in motion. Meanwhile, the 
American cavalry dashed forward. The legion cavalry 
were in advance of Mayham's, their front section led by 
Captain Armstrong. The planks sliding into the water, 
and the lighted portfire beyond, hanging above the how- 
itzer, left no time for hesitation to a body of cavalry 
densely moving along the narrow causeway in its range. 
There was not a moment to be lost, and, driving his 
rowels into his steed, Armstrong^dashed over the bridge, 
followed closely by his section, and drove the artillerists 
from the gun. Lieutenant Carrington followed with the 
second section, and the third advanced, but faltered. 
Mayham, with Marion's cavalry, feeling the halt, charged 
by it, but was arrested in his career by the death of his 
horse. Captain Macaulay, who led his front section, 
pressed over the bridge to the opposite causeway, 
which was now crowded, hand to hand, with combat- 
ants. The British working party, snatching up their 
pieces, had fled, after delivering a single fire. Two of 
Lee's dragoons fell dead at the mouth of the howitzer, 
and several were severely wounded ; but the leaders 
were unhurt, and, contending with Coates and his offi- 
cers, who, covered by a wagon, were opposing them 
with their swords, while the British troops were pres- 
sing forward to a spot in which they might display. A 
23 



266 LIFE OP NATIIANAEL GREENE. 

fruitless and tedious endeavor, on tlie part of the Amcn- 
cans, to recover tlio lloating planks, and repair the 
bridge for the detachment to cross, aiforded to the en- 
emy sufficient leisure for their objects ; and w^hen Arm- 
'strong, of the legion cavalry, and Macaulay, of May- 
ham's, looked about them, they found themselves almost 
isolated from their own people, while the British, formed 
in front, were ready for their destruction. It remained 
only to urge their way headlong through the fugitives 
along the causeway. Secure in the fact, that, while the 
British officers in the rear would save them from the 
fire of their troops in front, and pressing forward till a 
secure footing could be found in the woods on either 
side, they dashed to the right, and escaped by heading 
the stream. Prepared to receive a charge of cavalry, 
Coates renewed his labors upon the bridge, and suc- 
ceeded in its destruction. He then pressed forward to 
the shelter of Shubrick's plantation, not daring to trust 
himself in the open field with such an active and powerful 
hostile cavalry about him. Here, in the cover of dwel- 
ling-houses, outhouses, and fences, he prepared to await 
the approach of Sumter's infantry. The latter, com- 
pelled to make a considerable circuit, did not reach the 
ground till three o'clock in the afternoon. It was Sumter's 
opinion, that if the wholesome audacity of the first sec- 
tions of the cavalry had been sustained by the whole, 
the British must have been overwhelmed. "If the 
whole party had charged across the bridge, they would 
have come upon the enemy in such a state of confusion, 
while extricating themselves from the lane, that they 
must have laid down their arms." 

Sumter found the British drawn np in a square, in 
front of the house, aud prepared for his reception. He 
had few bayonets, and his policy was that of the brave 
fellows at King's mountain, where the rifle was made to 



ACTION AT SHUBRICK's. 207 

baffle this weapon in the hands of the enemy. His in- 
fantry was divided into three bodies ; his own brigade 
constituting one, and that of Marion the two other divis- 
ions. The first was ordered to advance and seek shel- 
ter under a line of negro-houses which they were to 
occupy. Maiion's men, without any cover but the open 
worm fence of the countiy, were to approach on the 
right to the house of which the enemy were in posses- 
sion. The cavalry, for which there was no present use, 
held a secure position sufficiently near to cover the in- 
fantry from pursuit. Sumter*s men soon gained the 
negro-houses, whence they employed their nfles with 
effect. A fire from the fences on the British left, from 
a small detachment under Colonel Thomas Taylor, drew 
upon hirn a charge of the bayonet, which was not to be 
withstrxjd. As they yielded, however, the men of Mar- 
ion rushed to their assistance, and brought them off un- 
der a galling fire from the houses. Then, under the 
imperfect shelter of the fences, they continued to fire 
with fatal accuracy, so long as a charge of powder re- 
mained unexpended. They were then drawn off in 
perfect order, having been almost the only losers in the 
Siction. The battle was thus maintained from four 
o'clock, and while the day lasted, the enemy firing from 
the houses and within a picketed garden. The sun was 
down when the assailants retired, the combat having 
lasted three hours, to the exhaustion of all their ammu- 
nition. All that remained to them was a single wagon, 
captured at Dorchester, and that was with the artillery. 
Unfortunately, the powder, by some mismanagement, 
had been sent to headquarters, and it was not so certain 
that Captain Singleton, with the artillery, had an)i:hing 
to spare. Of pewter-bullets, Sumter was assured that 
there were plenty. The Americans were drawn off and 
encamped at a distance of three miles from the scene 



268 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

of action ; the cavalry of Lee and Marion being em- 
ployed to watch the enemy. The loss of the Americans 
fell almost entirely on Marion's men, and occasioned 
some bitter discontents among them. They alleged 
themselves to have been the victims of a partiality 
which had exposed them openly to the brunt of battle, 
while the troops of Sumter were carefully posted under 
shelter. The British lost more than seventy men under 
the deadly fire of the rifle. Their numbers were supe- 
rior to those of Sumter, but they were without cavalry, 
and dared not advance from under cover. 

The arrival of Sumter's artillery did not increase his 
strength. It brought with it no supply of ammunition. 
In the meantime, great discontents had arisen among the 
Americans. The several commanders were at issue in 
respect to the treatment they had severally received — 
the militia were withdrawing, and rumors reached 
the camp of the approach of Lord Rawdon, with all 
his force, from Orangeburg. Sumter was compelled to 
forego the prey almost within his grasp. But much 
had been done by the expedition, in exciting the fears 
of one class, the hopes of another, destroying the supe- 
rior reputation of the enemy, and capturing stores and 
prisoners to a large amount and number. Among the 
captures of great importance was the paymaster's chest 
of Coates's army, containing seven hundred and twenty 
guineas, the largest sum ever seen in the American 
camp, which Sumter immediately divided among his sol- 
diers. It was not the least grateful characteristic in this 
assault upon Coates, that it reassured the country on the 
subject of the spirit still remaining and ready in the' 
state; that the troops by which it was made were almost 
exclusively South Carohna militia. The command was 
dissolved by the exigencies of the occasion — Sumter 
retiring across the Santee, and Marion into his brigade. 



STATE OP THE ARMY. 269 



CHAPTER XIX. 

The Camp of the Hills. — Greene's Army and his Lahor. — The Capture 
and Execution of General Hayne. — Excitement of Greene and the 
Camp. — Retaliation threatened. — Stuart in Command of the British 
Army. — Successes of American Cavalry. — Greene's Army in Motion. 
—Retreat of Stuart.— Takes Post at Eutaw.— Greene approaches. 

In failing to destroy or capture the detachment under 
Coates, the expedition, whose progress we have briefly 
pursued, failed in one of the chief objects for which it 
was undertaken. But something considerable was 
gained, not less in compelling the abandonment of the 
posts of Dorchester and Biggin, than in the lively effect 
which the incursion produced in the minds of friends 
and foes. There is no doubt that the party under 
Coates ought to have been brought to submission. 
Errors were committed, and openly charged against 
particular officers, by which the failure was produced. 
It does not belong to our narrative to inquire into this 
subject, which it might be difficult at this late day to 
analyze with any certainty. Though disappointed, in 
some degree, Greene was satisfied with the moral effect 
produced by the incursion, and longed for nothing so 
ardently as to follow it up with other enterprises which 
should confirm the wavering and the doubtful. Already 
had much been done to paralyze the zeal of the loyal- 
ists, and to awaken the enthusiasm of the whigs. The 
steady successes of the Americans, the gradual recovery 
of the country, and the animated spirit of the partisans, 
were all working to the most satisfactory results. The 
23* 



270 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

British auxiliaries were deserting tliem, and their foreign 
troops, particularly the Irish, were either following the 
example, or exhibiting a more dangerous spirit of mu- 
tiny and disaffection. Could Greene have received the 
proper succors, from Congress or the contiguous states 
— men, money, horses, clothing — all of which were 
needed to success — enterprise would have been easy 
under the most grateful auguries, and success must have 
crowned endeavor with so many elements of favor as to 
sanction its impulses. But the whole system by which 
the conscript militia was brought into the field, was un- 
profitable and unwholesome. The natural strength of 
Virginia and North Carolina, to say nothing of Georgia 
and South Carohna, was frittered away by miserable ex- 
pedients which led to nothing useful ; and the American 
general soon discovered that, for the future, as hitherto, 
he must look chiefly to his own and the wretched re- 
sources of the country in which his operations were 
taken. We shall forbear, hereafter, the monotonous 
recurrence to these subjects of complaint, which, form 
the chief burden of his correspondence, and for which 
the necessities of every day afforded ample reason. One 
half of his cares seem to have arisen from the necessity 
of appealing constantly to those who would not hear, and 
of entreating those who, possibly, could not grant. His 
days and nights, when not actually in the face of his 
enemy, pursuing, or retreating before him, were con- 
sumed in labors at the desk, by the midnight lamp : sug- 
gesting schemes of organization for the militia of the 
states ; devising plans for operating against the British 
in Virginia as well as in Carolina ; now organizing an 
J expedition against the enemy in Wilmington, and now 
preparing defences against the Indians along the fron- 
tier, or persuading them to treaties of peace and amity. 
For both purposes, Pickens had been employed with 



STATE OF THE COUNTRY. 271 

the native militia, and his efforts had been singularly 
successful. Of the cares of the commander of the south- 
ern army, in restoring civil government, we can employ 
general language only. It would be impossible, in the 
compass of a single volume, to depict the details of that 
terrible civil v^arfare which outraged humanity in the 
Carolinas, and moved the people, like the sons of Ish- 
mael, to raise the hands of violence perpetually against 
their fellow-men. GJ-reene, uniting his efforts with those 
of Governor Rulledge — a highly gifted man, upon whom 
South Carolina had conferred almost dictatorial powers, 
and who was now with the army at the High hills of 
Santee — contributed greatly to the restoration of civil 
authority for which the recent successful incursion be- 
low had greatly paved the way. But it was not easy to 
bring back the spirit of calm and peace, and subdue the 
domestic tempest, which still, though somewhat curbed, 
ran with too much riot through the land. Wrongs were 
remembered for retaliation only, and, but for the firm- 
ness of the American general, co-operating with Rut- 
ledge, the recent progresses of the partisans in the lower 
country would have covered the face of the land with 
carnage and desolation. Angry with defeat, and ren- 
dered querulous and unwise by disappointment, the 
British authorities gradually, with every new disaster, 
gave to their policy a harsher character, which naturally 
increased the vindictive feeling with which they were 
regarded by the whigs. The train of events by which 
those feelings were illustrated, of cruelties on the one 
hand, and fierce retaliation on the other, must be sought 
in other histories. It will suflBce, in this place, that we 
refer to one event, to which the domestic history has 
always assigned a conspicuous place over all others of 
a like description. This was the wanton execution of 



272 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. 

Colonel Isaac Hayne, by the British authorities, as a 
deserter and a spy. 

This event followed the incursion of the partisans into 
the lower country. Their successful demonstration, at 
the very gates of Charleston, drew Lord Rawdon to the 
city, at the head of five hundred men. Colonel Stuart 
was left in command of Orangeburg. Rawdon was, no 
doubt, deeply mortified at the contraction of his sphere 
of power, a,nd Lieutenant-Colonel Balfour, the com- 
mandant of Charleston, as greatly mortified by the insult 
offered to his authority when the flags of Taylor and 
Lee were flaunted in his sight with an insolent defiance 
which he lacked the ability to punish. Both of these 
dignitaries, no doubt, beheld the rapid approach of the 
hour when they should be expelled the country they had 
so much abused, and, from the bitterness of defeated 
pride, and an avarice v/hich w^as arrested in the midst of 
its greatest gains, arose a darker passion, which brooded 
gloomily over its means of resentment. Unfortunately, 
the docile fates brought them a victim at the very mo- 
ment which found this unholy passion most active in 
their bosoms. 

Colonel Isaac Hayne was a gentleman of good char- 
acter and family, a native of one of the parishes beyond 
the Edisto. He was a person equally' amiable in his 
manners and above reproach in his morals. His offence 
may be summed up briefly in a fe\y sentences. He 
came under the British authority, as a citizen, after the 
surrender of Charleston. A proclamation of Cornwal- 
lis required all persons, whether taken in arms or not, to 
receive a British protection. The requisition, as it 
might imply a voluntary recognition of British authority, 
was distasteful to Hayne, who consulted with his friends 
upon the subject. Tliey gave it as their opinion that he 
might, without impropriety, receive the protection ten- 



CASE OP COLONEL HAYNE. 273 

d ere d him — that the state was in the hands of the ene- 
my, — that he was in duresse accordingly, shadowed on 
all hands by their power, and that such an engagement 
implied nothing more than a forbearance, while under 
their protection, to demean himself as an enemy. He 
was the more ready to receive and recognise their argu- 
ments as, at the moment, his wife and children were suf- 
fering from smallpox, needing all his cares, and whom 
his affections and his duty equally denied that he should 
abandon. He took the required protection, and sub- 
mitted to the power against which he could not contend. 
But circumstances changed. Cornwallis disappeared. 
Rawdon was straitened, and forced to abandon his out- 
posts. The sphere of British operations was contracted, 
and the partisans traversed the county in which Hayne 
resided, without meeting any enemy who had power to 
oppose them. The power to which he had submitted, 
had disappeared. It could no longer afford the protec- 
tion which it promised. A new authority might pro- 
pose new terms of obedience, and he was only too well 
pleased to find himself thus relieved from bonds which 
he had felt as irksome and humihating. He followed 
the example of the partisans, drew the sword in the cause 
of his country, rallied a goodly troop of his neighbors, 
and took the field with spirit and success. With a de- 
tachment of Col. Harden's horse, he had succeeded, by 
a sudden dash in the vicinity of Charleston, in capturing 
a prisoner of peculiar consequence. This was General 
Williamson, who has been called the Arnold of South 
Carolina. Williamson was by birth a Scotchman, a man 
rude and unlettered, but of some popularity in the upper 
country. He had declared himself with the patriots in 
1775, had been of service in quelling the movements of 
that region, but in the subsequent successes of the enemy 
had gone over to their side. Captured by Hayne, his 



S74 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. 

fate seemed to be inevitable. He could scarcely hope for 
escape from the Americans, whose cause he had aban- 
doned and betrayed. The commandant of Charleston 
was of course anxious to preserve him from this danger. 
In his solicitude to do so, he despatched in pursuit all the 
cavalry which could be found in and about Charleston. 
An unfortunate indiscretion, — such indiscretion as usu- 
ally impairs the best qualities of the untrained militia 
officer — enabled them to overtake the American squad- 
ron, and in the conflict which ensued, Hayne in turn be- 
came a prisoner to the British. 

He was conducted to Charleston, where, without atrial 
pursuant to civil or martial law, he was ordered to exe- 
cution. Lord Rawdon only remained long enough in the 
city to witness the performance of the sanguinary deed, 
when he sailed for England. It was in vain that he had 
been petitioned by the inhabitants, without regard to class 
or party. All that could be obtained was a respite 
of forty-eight hours, " in consequence of the humane 
treatment shown by you4o British prisoners who fell into 
your hands." The reason given for the indulgence suf- 
ficiently pronounces upon the crime of him who gave it. 

It was while Greene lay at the High hills of Santee 
that he heard of this execution. His feelings were 
deeply roused by this event, the more particularly, per- 
haps, as it was tacitly assumed by the country that 
Hayne was selected as the victim to appease the manes 
of Andre. The hand of Greene had signed the death- 
warrant of the latter, and the stroke of retaliation, if it 
were such, under which Hayne perished, was particularly 
designed to goad and sting the heart of the American 
general. He seemed to feel its purpose to be such, and 
gave way to one of those excessive bursts of indignation 
to which those men are especially liable in extreme prov- 
ocation, who ordinarily keep their emotions under the 



GREENE RESOLVES TO RETALIATE. 275 

greatest subjection. Like Washington, Greene was a 
man of strong feelings, and like him he had learned to 
humble them in obedience to his will and his necessities. 
At this time they burst their usual bounds, and he swore 
to revenge the wanton barbarity which had outraged all 
the wonted securities of war. It was while a cartel for 
the exchange of prisoners between the two aiTnies was 
in progress, and at a time when numbers of American 
prisoners, under the same category with Hayne, were 
undergoing free release from British dungeons, that he 
was set aside for the sacrifice. And the matter with re- 
gard to himself was not only carefully withheld from 
Greene, but from Major Hyrne, his agent for the ex- 
change, who was then temporarily residing within the 
city. He was suffered to leave the city with the belief 
that all of the prisoners were to be released, under the 
exchange which had been negotiated, ^«;e only excepted, 
one of whom Hayne was not. 

The resolution of Greene to retaliate, was expressed 
in his correspondence in emphatic language. To Marion 
he writes : " I do not intend to retaliate upon the tory 
officers, but the British. It is my intention to demand 
the reasons of the colonel's [Hayne] being put to death ; 
and if they are unsatisfactory, as I expect they will be, 
and if they refuse to make satisfaction, as I expect they 
will, to publish my intention of giving no quarters to 
British officers, of any rank, that fall into our hands." 
To General Washington he writes : ** I am determined 
to retaliate, and as the enemy are indifferent about their 
militia officers, I mean to retaliate on the British, as the 
surest way to put a stop to a practice that can only serve 
to gratify private revenge," Simultaneously with this 
letter, he published a proclamation on this subject, which, 
after stating in emphatic language the case of Hayne, 
went on to say that this proclamation had for its purpose 



276 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. 

to declare his intention *' to make reprisals for all sucli 
inhuman insults as often as they take place" — and fur- 
ther that " it is my intention to take the officers of the 
regular forces, and not the inhabitants who have joined 
their army, for the objecte of my reprisals." Letters, 
on the same day, were addressed to Lord Cornwallis and 
Lieutenant-colonel Balfour, under whom the execution 
of Hayne had taken place. To the former he writes 
firmly but respectfully, saying, among other things, " nor 
can I suppose your lordship can have a single doubt that 
a people who have gone thus far in support of their lib- 
erties, will hesitate a moment to retaliate for every vio- 
lence offered to their adherents." His letter to Balfour 
was in a different tone, and reiterated his determination 
in the strongest language. 

In all these proceedings, and this decision, he but re- 
echoed the single sentiment of his army. Without a knowl- 
edge of what he had been doing, his officers met together 
and addressed him a memorial, recommending retalia- 
tion upon all British subjects in his power. " Permit 
us," concludes this document, ** to add, that while we se- 
riously lament the necessity of such a severe expedient, 
and commiserate the sufferings to which individuals will 
necessarily be exposed, we are not unmindful that such 
a measure may, in its consequences, involve our own lives 
in additional dangers ; but we had rather forego tem- 
porary distinction, and commit ourselves to the most des- 
perate situations, than prosecute this just and necessary 
war upon terms so dishonorable." 

The list of signatures to this paper was headed by 
that of Isaac Huger, and closed by that of William 
Washington. There was but one known name of the 
army not upon it, that of Lee, and he was absent on the 
Congaree at the time of its preparation. These pro- 
ceedings awakened the fears of the British officers. 



THE TWO ARMIES. 277 

They were followed up by the commitment to the pro- 
vost guard of several of their number, who had fallen 
into the hands of Marion. A meeting of the British of- 
ficers in Charleston expressed their discontents to Bal- 
four, in language which compelled that petty despot to 
open a negotiation with G-reene on the subject of his 
complaints and threats. Captain Barry, his secretary, 
was appointed on the British side, by Balfour, with full 
powers to discuss and adjust the difficulties between the 
respective arms ; but circumstances were now in progress 
which superseded the necessity even for retaliation, which 
the more deliberate second thought of Greene, in milder 
moments, made him anxious to escape. Could he have 
laid his hands upon either or both of the true offenders, 
Rawdon and Balfour, there would have been no relent- 
inoj-s. Their crime had been such as to take from hu- 
manity all the sting and pain which still follows even 
upon the necessity of doing justice upon the criminal. 
The question was finally referred to Congress, and be- 
longs to the many which were closed rather by the close 
of the war itself, than by any special consideration of 
the subject. We must return to the business of the 
campaign. 

Stuart, left by Rawdon in charge of the British army 
at Orangeburg, was not for several weeks in a condition 
to move with his weary and discontented troops. Greene, 
meanwhile, uncertain of his future objects, but not 
doubting that the want of provisions would lead him to 
the banks of the Santee or Congaree, took measures for 
gleaning the resources of the country from before his 
path, and transferring his hai^ests to the northern side 
of both these rivers, thus increasing his own while cut- 
ting off the supplies of his enemy. The superiority of 
the Americans in cavalry, enabled them very successfully 
to perform this operation. At length, Stuart advanced 
24 



278 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. 

on the route to M'Cord's ferry, taking post on the south 
side amid the hills near the confluence of the Congaree 
and Wateree. Here, with two large rivers running be- 
tween, the two armies lay in sight of their opposing fires, 
sharpening their swords for future conflict. The intense 
heat of the weather prevented any present encounter, 
while the barriers offered by the rivers secured each from 
any danger of surprise. But the cavalry of the Ameri- 
cans were not inactive. Colonel Washington was de- 
tached down the country, across the Santee ; the north 
bank of the Congaree was swept by Lee. The latter 
was sent to operate with Colonel Henderson, who had 
succeeded to the command of Sumter ; the former to co- 
operate with Marion and Mayham, in covering the coun- 
try on the Lower Santee, striking at the detachments, 
the convoys, and the posts of the enemy, between his 
camp and Charleston, whenever opportunity offered. 
Colonel Harden, meanwhile, with a body of mounted 
militia, gathered beyond the Eflisto, had it in charge to 
traverse that region of country, and in like manner to 
strike at and straiten the operations of the enemy. 

Speaking of the performances of these several detach- 
ments, at this period, Greene asserts that *' their charac- 
ter for enterprise was never excelled." Washington 
soon succeeded in falling in with two parties of British 
horse, which he disjDorsed, making fifty prisoners. Lee, 
penetrating between the main body of the British and 
his post at Orangeburg, and in sight of the latter place, 
drove in, dispersed, and captured, several other parties. 
His communications constantly interrupted, and his sup- 
plies cut off", Stuart found himself in sight of provisions 
that he could not reach. He was compelled to draw his 
resources from below. To render this easy, he foraied 
a line of posts — re-establishing that of Dorchester, and 
erecting a new one at Fairlawn, at the head of naviga- 



CONDITION OF THE AMERICANS. 279 

tlon on Cooper river. From this point the route of 
transportation to his headquarters was by land wholly ; 
but with Marion, Washington, and Mayham, on the 
watch at all points, his means of subsistence became 
momently more and more precarious. 

With his detachments thus engaged, Greene was anx- 
iously looking on every hand for the recruits and rein- 
forcements which had been promised him. His repeated 
disappointments, hitherto, had somewhat reconciled him 
to their recurrence. With the eight hundred Pennsyl- 
vanians, under Wayne, which he had been led to expect 
early in August, he must have overwhelmed his adver- 
sary, whose position left him entirely open to the 
American general, should his strength ever enable him 
to take advantage of the circumstance. But Wayne 
had been diverted from Carolina to Yorktown. Greene's 
North Carolina levies were sent to him without arms, 
and he had none with which to provide them. A corps 
of Georgians, one hundred and fifty in number, which 
had been raised by Colonel Jackson, were all of them 
seized with smallpox at the same time, fully one third 
of them perishing with the disorder. Of three thousand 
five hundred North-Carolinians which had been prom- 
ised, less than five hundred made their appearance. 
Seven hundred mountaineers, under Shelby and Sevier, 
were to be with him by a certain day, and were already 
en route for the scene of action, when, hearing exaggera- 
ted accounts of the successes of Greene in the pursuit 
of Rawdon, they turned back, and wrote him, that they 
presumed he longer needed their assistance. Sumter, 
meanwhile, sick and offended, had retired from service, 
leaving his command to Henderson, few in number and 
grievously discontented. 

But Greene's necessities were too pressing to permit 
him to brood long over his deficiencies. The state of 



S80 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. 

aiFairs at the north left him no time to deliberate. " We 
must have victory or ruin," is the language of his impa- 
tience, addressed in one of his letters to Lee ; and he 
adds, that to obtain the former he will spare nothing. 
Calling in his detachments, he broke up his camp at 
the High hills, on the 22d of August, a season when the 
heats are still quite too excessive, and the climate too 
sickly, to make active operations either grateful or suc- 
cessful. Great rains had swollen the swamps and water- 
courses, and an approach to his enemy required a tedious 
circuit to be made. He could only cross the Wateree 
by ascending to Camden. It was by this route that he 
reached Howell's ferry, on the Congaree, on the 28th. 
Here he was advised that Stuart, hearing of the move- 
ments of the American army, had fallen back upon his 
reinforcements, and taken post at the Eutaw springs. 
The British had moved by forced marches, and it was no 
longer in G-reene's power to force him into action. Lee 
was instantly pushed forward to watch his movements, 
and Pickens, who had succeeded to the command of the 
troops of the state, was ordered to advance, leisurely, 
and take such a position as would enable him to keep an 
eye on the British garrison still at Orangeburg. These 
deliberate movements on the part of Greene, indicative, 
as it were, of a want of confidence in his own strength, 
had the desired effect on the British general. It had 
been the fear of the American, that his adversary, taking 
the alarm, would take his position too nearly to the gar- 
rison of the metropolis to be approached with safety — 
thus cutting off all the hope that he cherished of crip- 
pling him by a battle. Reassured by the cautious prog- 
ress of Greene, Stuart came to a halt, and as Marion 
had recently disappeared from below, on one of his 
secret expeditions, he withdrew his gamson from Fair- 
lawn, ordering the latter up to reinforce him for the con- 



PREPARATIONS FOR BATTLE. 281 

flict. Greene, meanwhile, continued his march, still very 
deliberately, and, encamped at Motte's, near the spot 
which the British had recently abandoned. This cau- 
tious progress served to disguise his real desires, and to 
dissipate the fears of his adversary. With the accession 
to Stuart's strength of the garrison at Fairlawn, that of 
Orangeburg being ordered to another, which was admi- 
rably chosen for supporting the main army, Greene per- 
ceived that his adversary was preparing for the chances 
of a struggle. But the American general had sufficiently 
concealed his real wishes, and lulled the British colonel 
into a false security. The former, accordingly, was per- 
mitted to approach within a few miles of his position, 
and Marion to form a junction with him, without any 
suspicion of the fact being entertained in the camp of 
the British. The order for Marion's junction with the 
main army is dated the 4th of September, and on the 
5th we find him seventeen miles above the enemy, and 
in advance of his superior. On the afternoon of the 7th, 
the army had reached Burdell's tavern, on the Congaree 
road, seven miles from the Eutaw spi-ings. Here, hav- 
ing effected a junction with all his detachments, Greene 
made his preparations for measuring swords, the next 
day, with his antagonist. His baggage, tents, and every- 
thing that might delay or embarrass his movements, had 
been left behind, at Motte's ; and, with the exception of 
the tumbrils, the artillery, and two wagons containing 
hospital stores and rum, not a wheeled carriage accom- 
panied the army. Greene's fare was that of the com- 
mon soldier. That night, which was to precede a des- 
perate struggle with his enemy for superiority, he slept 
beneath the shade of an ancient China-tree, the huge 
roots of which, bulging from the earth, yielded a natural 
pillow for his head. 

24* 



282 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 



CHAPTER XX. 

Battle of Evitaw Springs. 

The memorable battle of Eutaw springs, by whicli 
British supremacy was fairly prostrated in South Caro- 
lina, was fought on the 8th day of September, 1781. 
The American force, as we have seen, lay the night be- 
fore at Burdell's tavern, seven miles from the scene of 
battle. It consisted of about two thousand men, while that 
of the British, under Colonel Stuart, at Eutaw, was esti- 
mated at two thousand three hundred. The superiority 
of the Americans lay in their cavalry — a superiority 
more than counterbalanced by the position which the 
British occupied, which was that, measurably, of a forti- 
fied place ; and by the quality of their troops, which were 
all well disciplined. Among their old regiments fought 
a large number of American tories and deserters, who 
added to the discipline of the regular service a rare 
skill as marksmen, and whose stubbornness in the con- 
flict might safely be relied on, when the peculiar peril 
in which they stood is considered. 

It was at four o'clock in the morning that the Ameri- 
can army moved from its bivouac. It marched in four 
columns, in the following order: The South Carolina 
state troops and Lee's legion formed the advance, under 
the command of Colonel Henderson. The militia both 
of North and South Carolina, under the lead of Marion, 
followed next. Then came the regulars, under General 
Sumner : and the rear was brought up by Washington's 



BATTLE OF EUTAW. 283 

cavalry and the Delawares of Kirkwood, under the com- 
mand of the former. The artillery moved betv\^een the 
columns. The troops were thus arrayed, and marched 
in order of battle. The day vv^as one of the most op- 
pressive heat, and the progress of the army was neces- 
sarily slow. But, up to the moment of its movement, 
and, indeed, not until it was fairly in progress, did Stu- 
art have any idea of its approach, so completely had the 
light detachments cut off the communication of the Brit- 
ish with the country around them, capturing, on the 
night before the battle, the only party which Stuart 
seems to have sent out in the direction of his enemy's 
approach. The British colonel appears to have been 
remiss : but it is not improbable that, conscious of his 
superiority, in numbers no less than position, he was not 
unwilling to hazard everything on the chances of a gen- 
eral engagement. The moral of the British army, at 
this time, required support from victory ; and the pres- 
tige of domxcstic authority was still more in need of its 
influence. 

Whether prepared or indifferent, the advance of 
Greene seems to have operated as a surprise upon the 
British general. So entirely secure did he feel himself 
in his position, that, while the Americans were getting 
under arms at Burdell's, but seven miles distant, to 
march upon him, he was sending forth a foraging party 
of a hundred men, on the very road along which the 
former were approaching. This was called a rooting 
party. Its particular purpose was to root for supplies 
of the sweet potato, then growing, of which the crop 
was abundant throughout the state, and which, indeed, 
constituted the chief vegetable in the fields at this season 
of the year. Stuart was evidently thinking much more 
of feeding than of fighting. 

His foragers were already abroad, and some three 



284 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. 

miles from camp, when a couple of deserters from the 
North Carolina line made their appearance at Eutaw, 
and communicated the startling intelligence of Greene's 
approach. This was at six in the morning, Stuart im- 
mediately sent out a detachment of infantry and horse, 
two hundred in number, under Captain Coffin, to recon- 
noitre the American position, and to cover and bring 
in his foragers. The American advance had already 
passed the road which the potato-seekers had pursued, 
when they were encountered by Coffin. He, ignorant 
of the strength of this force, and not dreaming that it 
constituted the advance of the army, which he supposed 
to be still lying where it had been left by the deserters, 
charged it with a blind confidence which resulted in his 
defeat and dispersion. The report of firearms drew the 
foragers out of the fields, and the whole of this party 
fell into the hands of the Americans, with several slain 
and wounded, and fifty prisoners, of Coffin's detach- 
ment. 

The audacity of Coffin, in thus boldly charging his 
advance, impressed Greene with the belief that the Brit- 
ish army was at hand. The pursuit of Coffin, after the 
dispersion of his force, had been forborne for the same 
reason ; and thus it was, that, while Stuart was pushing 
forward a detachment of infantry, a mile in advance of 
his position, with orders to engage and detain the Amer- 
icans while he formed his men and prepared for battle, 
the latter were ordered to a halt upon the march. 
Greene was naturally desirous to secure as much time 
for his raw troops as possible, in order that they might 
form with coolness, and refresh themselves before the 
conflict. Had less caution been shown, the detachment 
of Coffin might have been entirely cut off*, as the arrival 
of the fugitives at camp, had been so nearly simultane- 
ous with that of their pursuers, as to have secured to the 



BATTLE OP EUTAW. 285 

Americans all the advantages, in the conflict which en- 
sued, of a complete surprise. 

The militia column of Greene, when displayed, formed 
his first line. The South-Carolinians, in equal divisions, 
occupied the right and left, with the North-Carolinians 
in the centre. Marion commanded the right, Pickens 
the left, and Colonel Malmedy the centre. Henderson, 
with the state troops, including Sumter's brigade, cov- 
ered the left of this line, and Lee, with his legion, the 
right. The column of regulars also displayed in one 
line. The North-Carolinians, in three battalions,, under 
the several commands of Colonel Ashe and Majors Arm- 
strong and Blunt, occupied the right, and were mar- 
shalled by General Sumner. The Marylanders, under 
Colonel Williams, were on the left. They formed two 
battalions, commanded by Colonel Howard and Major 
Hardman. The Virginians, forming two battalions also, 
led by Major Sneed and Captain Edmonds, occupied the 
centre, and were commanded by Colonel Campbell. 
The artillery, consisting of four pieces, two three and 
two six pounders, under Captain Gaines and Captain 
Brown, were divided equally between the columns, and 
moved severally with each. Colonel Washington, with 
his cavalry and the Delawares of Kirkwood, as a re- 
serve, still marched in the rear, in column, with orders to 
maintain his cover in the woods. In this order the army 
moved steadily forward. 

But the advance was necessarily slow. The country 
on each side, being mostly in woods, presented continual 
obstacles to the preservation of order. A cheerful 
constancy marked the progress of the troops. The 
day was clear and cloudless, and, but for the oppressive 
heat of the September sun, the rays of which, in the 
south, are perhaps more fatal to life than those of 
any other season, the progress might have appeared an 



286 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

advance rather to conquest than to conflict. The short 
but spirited rencontre with Coffin's detachment was 
encouraging, and full of pleasant auguries ; and the halt 
and brief rest which they had taken, to say nothing of 
certain free draughts of the then popular beverage of 
rum and water, of which Greene had made sufficient 
provision, had given them new impulse to press forward 
in search of the enemy. The interval was not great be- 
tween the parties. The delay in the approach of the 
Americans had afforded Stuart sufficient time for making 
all his preparations. His advance, as we have seen, con- 
sisting of a strong body of infantry and a field-piece, 
was thrown out a mile from his camp for the purpose 
of skirmishing with and retarding the American ap- 
proach. This division was encountered spiritedly by 
the American first line, before which it gradually yield- 
ed. The opposing parties kept firing as the one ad- 
vanced and the other retired, until the British party was 
received into its own line of battle, and the presence of 
their whole force, with their artillery in the main road, 
counselled the American skirmishers to disappear into 
their proper places in their own columns. 

The position of the British, strong originally for de- 
fence, was rendered more so by the judicious arrange- 
ment which Stuart had made of his forces. His troops 
were drawn up in one line, the right of which was cov- 
ered by the Eutaw creek. This lovely little streamlet, 
which issues from secret avenues of limestone, pursues 
a stealthy course beneath high banks and a dense umbra- 
geous thicket. The ground on which the British line was 
drawn up was entirely in wood. Their left, which ** was 
in air," employing the military language, was supported 
by Coffin's cavalry, and a strong detachment of infantry, 
which was held closely in reserve, but at a convenient 
distance, in the shelter of the wood. The only open 



BATTLE OF EUTAW. 287 

grounds in the neighborhood, were those which foniied 
the precincts of a plantation settlement and dwelling- 
house, the cleared fields of which lay immediately in the 
rear of the British position. The dwelling-house was of 
brick, two stories in height, with garret-rooms, the win- 
dows of which commanded all the open space around. 
This house was abundantly strong to resist the fire of irF 
fantry, and a garden in its rear, enclosed by a picket fence, 
increased its facilities for defence, and afforded an excel- 
lent temporary shelter in the event of disaster. A large 
barn, and various outhouses of wood, misrht also con- 
tribute to these objects. In the open ground, south and 
west of the house, the tents of the British encampment 
were left standing, while their line was formed for battle 
in the foreground. The rear was in great degree cov- 
ered by the broken character of the country, deep thick- 
ets of the scrubby oak or blackjack, and occasional ra- 
vines. Where this was not the case, the land lay level, 
but in the original forest, pierced only by the single great 
avenue leading to the metropolis, and a narrow wagon 
track to Nelson's ferry, on the neighboring- river. The 
British commander, in plain terms, had made the most 
of his position. The right of his line was composed of 
the third regiment, " the Buffs." The debris of several 
coi-ps, led by Cruger, occupied the centre, and the left, 
having no natural advantage of position, was confided to 
two veteran regiments, the sixty-third and sixty-fourth. 
In the thickets by which Eutaw creek is bordered, a com- 
mand of three hundred picked troops was given to Major 
Majoribanks, whose business it was to watch the Ameri- 
can flank, while guarding his own, and to take advan- 
tage of any opening in the former, which should invite 
or justify attack. Major Sheridan, with a command of 
infantry, was ordered to seize upon and hold the dwelling- 
house at Eutaw, in the event of any misfortune, and from 



288 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

this point to cover the movements of the army. The ar- 
tillery of the British occupied the main road. We have 
nothing now to delay our progress, in passing to the 
great struggle of the day. 

The skirmishing parties driven in by the American 
advance) consisting chiefly of the Carolina militia, Hen- 
derson's state troops, and Lee's legion, forming the 
American first line), disappeared in the rear, leaving their 
pursuers opposed to the w^hole line of the British army. 
Stuart maintained his position, designing, as he found 
himself opposed only to militia, to repel the attack with- 
out advancing. His anxiety was only felt at the approach 
of the second or American line of regulars, for which he 
wished to hold his men steadily and with firmness. But 
the militia on this occasion were superior to that ordinary 
class with which he had been accustomed to deal. They 
might not be willing to stand the charge of the British 
bayonet, for which no weapons or ti'aining had prepared 
them, but they had long since learned in what manner to 
stand fire. They were the men of Marion and Pickens, 
leaders in whom they had perfect confidence, and who 
never failed to extract good service out of them. Their 
behavior this day was that of veterans ; and as the field- 
pieces of Gaines were wheeled forward to answer the 
bellowing thunders of those which confronted them from 
the British line, along the road, the steady fire and keen 
aim of the southern marksmen, continued to tell, with 
fearful effect, upon their serried infantry, whose regular 
volleys of musketry, with louder echoes, wei'e yet very 
far from doing the fearful execution which followed the 
sharp crack of the deadly rifle. Stuart soon found that 
he should vainly contend with such enemies, while he 
occupied his original position. At the long arm, they 
were more than a match, this first line of militia, for all 
his army. It was with surprise and delight that Greene 



BATTLE OF EUTAW. 289 

beheld them advance with shouts of defiance into the 
very blaze of the enemy's fire, unaffected by the fall of 
comrades, and only seeking, w^ith cool and resolute pur- 
pose, in what manner to avenge them. But the artillery 
of Gaines, by this time, had been demolished ; one of 
the enemy's four-pounders had shared the same fate. 
The carnage on both sides was great, and the militia, 
though counting their bullets, were receiving the unre- 
mitted fire of a line more than twice the number of their 
own. A forward movement of the enemy at length 
forced them to retire, but not until seventeen rounds had 
been delivered. 

General Sumner, with his three battalions of North-Car- 
olinians, was then ordered up to the support of the militia. 
This corps was composed of new levies, but they had 
been under discipline, and behaved handsomely. The 
battle was resumed with all its former fury, and, with 
the appearance of Sumner's division, Stuart was com- 
pelled to order into line on his left the infantry of his re- 
serve. The struggle was thus continued by fresh troops 
on both sides — without, however, relieving some of those 
who had been at work from the commencement of the 
action. Such was the case with the infantry of the Amer- 
ican covering parties, both on the right and left of the 
line. The legion infantry was engaged on the right with 
the sixty-third ; while Henderson, on the left, with the 
troops of the state, had been thrown into the most ex- 
posed situation of the whole field, in consequence of the 
American left falling short of the British right, and sub- 
jecting it to the oblique fire of a large proportion of this 
wing of the enemy, together with that of the battalion 
under Majoribanks, which was also in cover of the woods. 
These were new troops, and their constancy was severely 
tried. Henderson entreated to be permitted to charge 
the enemy opposed to him, and in this way extricate hira- 
25 



290 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GEEENE. 

self from a fire with which he could not contend equally ; 
but any such movement must have periled the flanks of 
the militia, and exposed the artillery : and the brave colo- 
nel held his position, sustained with unflinching fortitude 
by all his command, until he was disabled by a wound. 
With the appearance of Sumner, and the resumption of 
the battle, order was restored in his detachment, now 
under the command of Colonel Wade Hampton, sustained 
by Colonels Polk and Middleton, and they continued in 
the fight until Sumner's brigade, after a noble contest, 
yielded in turn to the fire of numbers much greater than 
their own. The British had gained the advantage, but 
it was only by bringing their reserve into action. All 
their strength was now engaged in the 'melee, while the 
greater part of the second line of the Americans, with 
the whole of their reserve and cavalry, hitherto unem- 
ployed, were wholly fresh for action. Of this fact, warmly 
engaged in the excitement of the struggle, the British 
line knew nothing. With the yielding of the American 
centre before them, they concluded the victory to be 
won, and, exulting in the prospect, they darted forth as 
if to secure the prey. This was the very moment for 
which Greene had been watching. Pressing forward 
with loud shouts, the British line became disordered, and, 
seeing his moment, the American general gave the or- 
der to the commander of the second line — " Let Wil- 
liams advance and sweep the field with his bayonets !" 
The rival regiments of Maryland and Virginia, the one 
led by Williams, the other by Campbell, rushed forward 
with trailed arms to obey it. Reserving their fire, they 
hurried on with shouts of exultation, and preserving 
their order, while exhibiting the highest degree of emu- 
lation, they moved to the fatal charge. Within forty 
yards of the enemy, the Virginians poured in a destruc- 
tive fire, when the whole line pressed forward to finish 



BATTLE OF EUTAW. 291 

the work with naked steel. With their advance the Brit- 
ish line showed symptoms of disquiet, and began to re- 
trograde in some disorder. At this lucky moment, the 
legion infantry of Lee, on the extreme left, availing itself 
of the exposure of the British flank, delivered a heavy 
enfilading volley, and followed it up with a charge of 
bayonets. This confirmed the apprehensions of the ene- 
my, and their left was thrown into irretrievable disorder. 
But their right and centre still appeared immoveable. 
It was now for the Marylanders to do what the Virgin- 
ians had rather precipitately done before. They threw 
in a fatal fire of their whole brigade, and the panic which 
already pervaded the British left extended to the remain- 
ing divisions. No troops ever came nearer to the actual 
crossing of the bayonet: so nigh were they, indeed, that 
the opposing officers sprang at each other with their 
swords. But the appearance of a conflict so desperate 
was only for an instant. " The Buffs" alone stood firm 
against the shock, and, for a while, the mutual thrust of 
the bayonet transfixed the opposing combatants in their 
several ranks. But the fire of the Marylanders, followed 
up by their desperate charge, swept away all opposition. 
The whole line of the enemy gave way. The rout was 
complete, the fugitives hurrying away to seek the shel- 
ter of the post already designated for this purpose, in the 
event of disaster, while many, with a nameless terror, 
sped forward to carry the tidings of defeat and dismay 
to the very gates of Charleston. 

The victory was now considered certain, but fortune 
was about to exhibit one of those caprices which are 
supposed to prove her blindness. Many, who already 
joined in the shouts of victory, were yet decreed to bleed. 
The carnage had only commenced. The Americans pur- 
sued the fugitive enemy to their camp. Here, however, 
the British officers had made their stand. Here, as pre- 



292 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

viously concerted, the dwelling-liouse had been convert- 
ed by Major Sheridan mto a fortress, which he occupied 
with a strong body of infantry ; while others were busy 
in arresting the fugitives in their flight and subduing them 
to order under the cover of the fences and pickets. Ma- 
joribanks, with his detachment of three hundred, still 
stood firm under cover, in the thickets which border the 
Eutaw, and where the extreme of the British right, stretch- 
ing considerably beyond the American left, still betrayed 
a reluctance to give way. They felt the protection af- 
forded them by his command, and were not insensible to 
the superiority which they yet possessed over their enemy. 
The two armies meanwhile — the American right pres- 
sing the British left, which no longer offered resistance 
— were now performing together " a half wheel which 
brought them into the open ground in front of the house.'* 
Greene now saw that unless Majoribanks was dislodged, 
the Maryland flank would be traversed by his fire. Or- 
ders were given to Washington to pass the American 
left and charge the British right. Colonel Hampton was 
despatched to co-operate with Washington. The latter, 
however, had already proceeded in his charge ; and, 
sweeping through the woods with his mounted men only, 
was endeavorino: to break throuc^h the dense and almost 
impervious thicket in which Majoribanks found shelter. 
While engaged in this endeavor, the fire of Majoribanks 
was delivered with destructive effect, which emptied a 
score of saddles, and brought down every officer but two. 
Washington himself fell, his horse being shot under him, 
and, while struggling to extricate himself, was bayonet- 
ed and taken prisoner. Hampton with his command 
appeared at this moment, and, collecting the scattered 
fractions' of Washington's, renewed the desperate at- 
tempt, but with similar disappointment. His attempt 
was followed up with more perseverance by Kirkwood's 



BATTLE OF EUTAW. 293 

infantry, before whose bayonets the detachment of Ma- 
joribanks slowly yielded, still holding their cover in the 
thicket, and making for a new position, in closer neigh- 
^borhood with the main army, with their rear j^rotected by 
Eutaw creek, and sheltered by the pickets of the garden. 
At this moment the whole British line was flying before 
the bayonets of the Americans. Their right had imbibed 
the panic which had seized the left, and were in full 
flight. Their course lay through their encampment. 
The Americans were pressing closely at their heels, ma- 
king prisoners at every step ; and the sole hope of the 
British lay in the possession which Sheridan had taken 
of the brick dwelling-house which commanded the field 
— in the compact front which Majoribanks still present- 
ed — and in the fact that some of the routed companies, 
from the left, had made good their retreat into the pick- 
eted garden, from which, under a partial cover, they 
could fire with effect. Even these positions were not 
gained but with great difliculty. So keen and close had 
been the pursuit, that detached bodies of the Americans 
had reached the house before it was yet fairly occupied 
by the men of Sheridan. An attempt to enter along 
with them, brought on a severe struggle at the entrance, 
in which, had the American party been sustained by the 
appearance of their horse, as they should have been, even 
this last resort of the British must have been taken from 
them. The latter prevailed, however, succeeding in ef- 
fecting their own entrance and excluding their assailants, 
while their sharp-shooters from the upper windows ef- 
fectually repelled the audacity of their pursuers. So 
short was the time allowed them — so narrow was their 
escape— that they could only secure the dwelling against 
the Americans by shutting the door in the faces of some 
of their own officeis. These were made prisoners by 

the former. One of them was a dapper little gallant of 
05* 



294 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. 

the British army, a great ladies' man, a wit, and some- 
thing of a Brummell. This was Major Barry, the secre- 
tary of Balfour, the commandant of Charleston. BaiTy 
fell into the hands of Lieutenant Manning, of Lee's legion. 
Manning, finding the upper windows to be full of British 
musketeers, about to measure his person with their muz- 
zles, did not scruple to seize Barry, and, before the as- 
tonished Briton could conceive his purpose, to hoist him 
upon his shoulders. Thus covered with the scarlet of a 
British uniform, with the person of one of their officers 
completely covering his own, the lieutenant reasonably 
calculated that he should interpose a sufficient physical 
as well as moral reason why he should not incur the pen- 
alty of a shower of British bullets. It was in vain that 
Barry interposed in the language of offended dignity : 
"Sir!" said he, "sir, I am Henry Barry; I am deputy- 
adjutant of the British army; captain in his majesty's fif- 
ty-second regiment; secretary to the commandant of 
Chaileston, &c. ; major of," &c. " The very man I was 
in search of," answered Manning ; " I am delighted to 
make your acquaintance ! Fear nothing. Adjutant Bar- 
ry, fear nothing. It is my policy to take care of you, 
and I am determined you shall take care of me : we 
must, in times like these, take care of each other." The 
Virginian succeeded in carrying off his captive upon his 
back in safety. 

It was at this moment that the fruits of the victory 
were lost to the Americans. When the pursuing army 
made their way to the British encampment, and found 
their tents all standing, filled with " creature comforts" 
of a character too tempting for a famished soldiery, the 
business of pift"suit was forgotten ; the object of strife, 
the new perils which attended their position. They 
were unequal to the temptation, and fell to, with fiercest 
appetite, upon the unwonted luxuries of the British com- 




'-^C>>x^ 



Major Barry captured by Lieutenant Manning.— Page 294. 



I 



BATTLE OP EUTAW. 295 

missariat. They scattered themselves among the tents, 
and eagerly seizing upon the food and liquor which they 
contained, became in a short time utterly unmanageable. 
IiTetrievable was the confusion which followed in the 
ranks, of the American army. It was in vain that their 
officers, exposing themselves to the British marksmen 
firing from the window^, strove to extricate them from 
their wretched predicament. But a few corps escaped 
the pernicious attraction, from the baneful effects of which, 
upon the army, it was difficult to perceive a remedy. The 
tents were covered by the fire from the house. This 
was fast thinning the American officers, whose sense of 
duty prompting the sacrifice, passed from tent to tent in 
the hope of bringing the soldiers to their duty. These 
were fast becoming indifferent to the consequences of 
their eiTor. Greene was soon conscious of his danger. 
He saw that, while the fire from the house swept the 
encampment, Majoribanks, supported by Coffin's cavalry, 
was watching his moment to engage in the performance. 
His orders were extended for the legion cavalry to fall 
upon and disperse the command of Coffin ; while the ar- 
tillery of the second line of the Americans, which had not 
been dismounted in the conflict, together with a couple 
of six-pounders which the enemy had abandoned in their 
flight, were brought forward to batter the house in which 
Sheridan had taken shelter. Unfortunately, the very ar- 
dor of those to whom this duty was intrusted was fatal 
to its object. They had run the pieces so nearly to the 
house as to leave them commanded by its musketry. The 
consequence was, that the artillerists had scarcely opened 
their fire, which must have compelled the surrender of 
the garrison, if properly directed, when they were all 
swept away by the destructive storm of bullets which re- 
sponded from the house. The guns were left unmanned, 
utterly abandoned, and, very soon after, a movement of 



296 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

the detachment of Majoribanks threw them into his pos- 
session. The orders sent by Greene to Lee, for the dis- 
persion of Coffin's cavalry, did not find the former offi- 
cer, who was with his infantry. They were delivered to 
Major Eggleston, with a detachment. He made the 
charge with promptness and decision, but lacked the 
force to make the proper impression on the command of 
Coffin. The latter drove forward, and, but for the timely 
arrival of Hampton, with his own and the remains of 
Washington's cavalry, that of Eggleston would have 
been scattered like chaff before the wind. An obstinate 
struggle followed, hand to hand, in which the British 
horse were finally driven back to the shelter of the in- 
fantry under Majoribanks. These lay perdu ; and the 
eager pursuit of Coffin brought the cavalry of Hampton 
once more within reach of their destructive fire. The 
American cavalry recoiled beneath it, were again re- 
pulsed and broken, and, availing himself of the moment 
when they were seeking shelter in the woods, Majori- 
banks dashed out from his covert, seized the artillery, and 
dragging it off in triumph, proceeded to feel with his 
bayonets the tents where still lingered that remnant of 
the American soldiers who were too inebriate for escape. 
Greene, with the failure of his artillery, had called off 
his forces. His army was soon rallied in the cover of 
the woods ; and, though Stuart had now succeeded in 
forming his line anew, he was in too crippled a condi- 
tion to venture beyond the cover of the house. 



I 



RESULTS OP THE CONFLICT. 297 



CHAPTER XXL 

The American Aniiy retires to the Hills of the Santee. — Its Condition and 
that of the British. — The Movements of the Partisans. — Stuart at Wan- 
toot. — The Tall of Cornwallis. — The Hopes it inspired. — Their Disap- 
pointment. — Greene marches for the Edisto. — Rapid Approach to Dor- 
chester. — Flight of the Gan-ison. — Stuart retreats. — Alarm in the British 
Army. — The Americans take Post on the Round O. 

Thus ended this obstinate conflict, in which both sides 
claimed the victory : the Americans, because the enemy 
had been driven from the field, and pursued to their en- 
campment ; the British, because, in the second struggle, 
at the encampment, all the advantages lay with them — 
the Americans being repulsed with the loss of their ar- 
tillery. Thus far, the claims of both parties may be re- 
garded as very nearly equal. If, with a superior force, 
the British deserve reproach for being driven from the 
field, still greater is it to the discredit of the Americans 
that they should have suffered the victory already in their 
possession to be lost by misconduct or mismanagement. 
Unquestionably the affair was mismanaged by the Amer- 
icans, and there was great misconduct. It is not within 
the compass of a work like ours to discuss the degree 
of censure which should apply to those having in charge 
the duties which were slurred in performance, and the 
mistakes which led to the disaster. It is enough, in re- 
gard to our subject, to say that Greene succeeded in 
drawing off his several corps in most respects entire. 
He might still have renewed the battle with advantage, 
and probably would have done so, but for the excessive 



298 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

heat of tlie weather, the intensity of which was such that 
the soldiery might be seen to plunge, for water to quench 
their intolerable thirst, into puddles which were deeply 
discolored with the blood of their comrades. Content 
with having driven his enemy from the field, and so crip- 
pled him as to make his further flight to the metropolis 
essential to his safety, Greene retired for the present to 
the place where he had spent the previous night, seven 
miles from the field of battle. He halted on the ground 
only long enough to collect and bring off his wounded, 
and make arrangements for burying his dead ; and leav- ^ 
ing Colonel Hampton with a strong picket to watch the 
enemy, he withdrew to Burdell's, the only place in which 
water could be found adequate to the wants of the army. 
The losses of the American army, chiefly the result of 
the second conflict in the open grounds, were very heavy. 
Their returns exhibited a loss of one hundred and four- 
teen rank and file killed, three hundred wounded, and 
forty missing — the aggregate exceeding one fourth of all 
who marched into battle. The British acknowledged a 
loss of three commissioned officers killed, sixteen wound- 
ed, and ten missing ; of rank and file, eighty-two killed, 
three hundred and thirty-five wounded, and two hundred 
and forty-seven missing. And yet Greene brought off 
from the field of battle four hundred and thirty prisoners, 
not including seventy wounded which Stuart left behind 
him when, the next day, he abandoned the Eutaws, The 
American loss had been particularly severe in officers : 
sixty-one of these had been killed or wounded ; of these, 
twenty-one had died upon the field of battle — the gallant 
Campbell, of Virginia, among them, dying in the aiTns 
of victory — declaring himself ''contented," when told 
that the enemy were flying. The condition of Washing- 
ton's command particularly provoked the regrets and sor- 
rows of the American general. Their almost despdl-ate 



STUART RETREATS. 299 

cha,rge upon the thickets which covered the detachment 
of Majoribanks was a proof of the most chivah'ous self- 
devotion. Visiting the hovel where their woiinded lay, 
the evening after the battle, his full heart forced from his 
lips the apology — "It was a trying duty, but unavoida- 
ble. I could not help it." 

Feeble as he was, scarcely less crippled than his ene- 
my, and exceedingly deficient in officers, of which he 
had never been provided with an adequate complement, 
Greene was by no means insensible to the necessity of 
grasping all the advantages which must ensue from the 
bloody struggle which was just ended. He reasonably 
conjectured that the necessities of his condition would 
compel the British commander to abandon his position 
and seek security in Charleston, or be compelled to call 
up reinforcements from that place for the maintenance 
of his ground. In order to baffle either purpose, Lee 
and Marion were despatched, with instructions to cover 
the avenues between, and cut off the retreat, or arrest 
the reinforcements ; while Greene himself, in the event 
of Stuart's flight, should press the pursuit, and try the 
issue of another conflict. But Stuart was even more 
crippled than the Americans had imagined. His exi- 
gencies admitted of no delay. Calling up the garrison 
atFairlawn to cover his retreat, he broke up his encamp- 
ment the day after the battle, destroying his stores, a 
thousand stand of arms, leaving his deadunburied, and sev- 
enty of his wounded to the mercy and care of the Amer- 
icans. His flight was so rapid as to elude the attempt of 
Lee and Marion to cast themselves across his path — at 
least before his junction had been effected with the rein- 
forcement from Fairlawn, which left them too inferior in 
force to attempt to retard his progress. Greene, himself, at 
once joined in the pursuit, which was continued for a day, 
bi4t without overtaking his enemy. Finding the chase 



300 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. 

fruitless, lie determined to give his army a necessary rest, 
and, after a short halt at the Eutaws, he returned once 
more to the salubrious hills of the Santee. 

Never was respite from toil more necessary. Critical 
and embarrassing as had been his frequent situations, it 
was never more so than immediately after the battle at 
Eutaw. His militia had left or were about to leave him. 
Of the North-Carolinians there remained but a hundred 
men, and their term of service was at its close. The 
South Carolina militia, under Marion, Pickens, Hamp- 
ton, and others, were necessarily detached for the pur- 
pose of covering the country ; and the army, now consisting 
of continentals alone, was burdened with the duty of at- 
tending upon nearly six hundred wounded, one half of 
whom were British : and this at the worst period of the 
year — when the heat was most excessive, when the acute 
fevers of the climate were most prevalent, and when ex- 
posure by night or day, however slight, was eminently 
full of peril. Yet his wounded and prisoners were to be 
conveyed by water through a region of malaria. They 
were taken in boats up the Wateree, inhaling the fatal 
miasma of the swamps through which they passed, and 
suffering accordingly froni their subtle and poisonous in- 
fluences. A muster at the American army at headquar- 
ters, ten days after the battle of Eutaw, could not have 
shown a thousand soldiers fit for duty. Greene has been 
reproached for moving from the " Hills," and attempting 
the enemy's post, at so early a period in the season. But 
we can not, at this late day, do full justice to his motives 
and necessities. The movement was probably necessary 
for the encouragement of his militia, and with the view 
to drive the enemy from a region in which the now rap- 
idly maturing harvests enabled him to supply his ex- 
hausted granaries. It was probably taken with the ad- 
vice of Governor Rutledge, at this time in the American 



Greene's condition. 301 

camp, a gentleman admirably informed in the condition 
of the country, and to whose judgment Greene habitually 
deferred in most local matters. Nor, indeed, when we 
regard the consequences of the movement, have we any 
reason to be dissatisfied. If the American army was 
enfeebled by the enterprise, its results were far more 
hurtful to the enemy. If the regulars were prostrated 
by sickness from taking the field in September, the mili- 
tia had been busy the whole summer, under Marion and 
Pickens, exposed to still worse hazards. In alt proba- 
bility the main army suffered rather by its previous re- 
pose, than by its subsequent activity; since all experi- 
ence has served to show that, in a southern climate like 
that of Carolina, the powers for physical resistance to the 
approaches of disease are far less easily sustained by a 
languid mode of life than by that which duly exercises 
the body and maintains a proper vitality in the skin. 
Greene's army needed numbers rather than health, not 
suffering in this latter respect more than is ordinaiily the 
case with armies in midsummer, whether in action or in 
camp. It was the militia system which kejDt him feeble, 
rather than the climate, and, at this very moment we find 
him complaining only of his numerical weakness, which 
forbade the efforts which his military judgment rendered 
him anxiously inclined to make. 

His eye was still fixed with yearning upon the career 
of Cornwallis in Virginia. The very day on which the 
battle of Eutaw was fought, he leceived intelligence of 
the operations of the northern army against his ancient 
adversary, with the suggestion that, in the exigency of 
the latter, he would endeavor, by a forced march through 
North C arolina, to make his escape to Charleston. In this 
event, how could Greene, with the skeleton regiments of 
the southern army, arrest his retreat ] It was tliis force 
Avhich alone would be relied upon for the attempt, yet 
26 



302 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

vviili what hope or prospect of success could it be used ] 
Still it was necessary to prepare for the event ; and, feeble 
as he was, Greene was well aware of the disastrous conse- 
quences which would result to the American cause, should 
Cornwallis with his division succeed once more in making 
his way into South Carolina. While mourning, according- 
ly, over his shattered columns, he yet meditated to throw 
himself across the path of the British general at all haz- 
ards, holding him at bay, if possible, until the army from 
Virginia could assist him in compassing the game. From 
his camp at the hills he could dart at any moment in the 
required direction, and this was a principal motive in re- 
suming his position at this point. Here he once more 
resumed those toilsome and seemingly little-profitable 
labors by which he hoped to arouse the contiguous coun- 
try to a sense of their duties and his necessities. The 
governors, lawyers, and chief men, of the neighboring 
states, were addressed with the thrice-told tale of priva- 
tion, and urged, with strenuous arguments and entreaties, 
in behalf of new and energetic movements for the relief 
and increase of the army proper. Again was the prayer 
for reinforcements almost desperately urged in quarters 
which had but too frequently listened with dull ear be- 
fore ; and thus passed the months of September and Oc- 
tober, with little relief to the monotony of labors which 
were compelled by a sense of duty; but he was too often 
mortified by repulse not to feel in the performance much 
more weariness than hope. 

Meanwhile, Stuart had recovered from his panic. The 
report of the probability of CornwalHs's approach had 
reached him also, and had prompted him to a demonstra- 
tion, which was perhaps quite as much intended for the 
recovery of public opinion, as with the view to anymore 
important advantages. Collecting reinforcements from 
below, and strengthening his cavalry, he pushed the 



STUART ADVANCES TO THE SANTEE. 303 

American detachments from before his path, and once 
more advanced upon the Eutaws. Marion and Hampton 
were both compelled to retire across the rivers ; and the 
apprehension was felt that, should he cross the Santee, 
his power might be re-established. But he was proba- 
bly too feeble to venture so boldly, and the conjectures 
with regard to Cornwallis gradually gave way to other 
conclusions. Active measures were adopted by the gov- 
ernors of Virginia and North Carolina to arrest his flight 
to the south ; and a movement of the loyalists in North 
Carolina, which had probably been inspirited by the 
reports in relation to Cornwallis, had been suppressed ; 
while the subsequent evacuation of "Wilmington lessened 
the apprehensions of the whigs of that neighborhood in 
relation to the future. The British army, meanwhile, in 
South Carolina, had taken post at Fludd's plantation near 
Nelson's ferry. Its strength at this place, increased by 
reinforcements, consisted of more than two thousand men, 
not including a detachment of three hundred at Fair- 
lawn under M' Arthur. In addition to this, the loyal- 
ists from the upper country had been enrolled, either in- 
dependently or with the British regiments, and formed a 
considerable addition to their active infantry. Their cav- 
alry had now become superior to that of the Americans, 
in consequence of the severe handling which the latter 
had received recently; and it was not until that of Sum- 
ter's brigade could be again brought together, with the 
wounded infantry of Marion, Horry, and Mayham, that 
the superiority of Greene in this arm could be restored. 
For a brief period, accordingly. Major Doyle, who had 
succeeded temporarily to the command of the British 
force on the Santee — Stuart still suffering from a wound 
received at Eutaw — exercised undivided authority over 
the country south of the Santee and Congaree, and west 
of the Edisto. He made hay during his brief period of 



301 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. 

sunshine, sweeping off with gi'eedy hands every negro, 
young and old, that he could possibly gather into his 
clutches in this extensive territory. The presence of 
Marion, guarding every accessible point along the river, 
alone arrested him in his paternal desire to extend the 
same covering arms over the opposite region. To protect 
the country as well as he could with his light troops, was 
all that Greene could do. He had no force with which to 
confront that of the enemy. We have shown his condi- 
tion ten days after the battle of Eutaw. 

The approach of winter found it still more hazardous and 
discouraging. His troops were wanting the absolute neces- 
saries of life — medicines were wanting — salt had failed. 
For two years, the southern army had received no pay — 
no clothing — were often short in the usual allowance of 
meat and bread, and commonly subsisted without ardent 
spirits. Symptoms of mutiny were actually beginning 
to show themselves in camp, and a victim expiated upon 
the gallows his impatience under sufferings which had 
strictly followed the failure of the government to comply 
with its contracts. Greene could only sympathize and 
weep over misfortunes that he could not prevent. He 
strove to soothe the sufferings of his people — shared 
those sufferings — was early and late engaged in the work 
of tendance and watching — now in the ranks, now at 
the hospitals, encouraging by kind offices, entreating with 
gentle arguments, and, with a thousand anxieties mov- 
ing him to querulousness and impatience, subduing his 
own discontents that he might soften theirs. The supe- 
rior care of strengthening his army against the enemy, 
and in becoming employment, was necessarily his worst 
anxiety. Yet, in this work, he was constantly thwarted 
by others who were more considerate of the objects un- 
der their immediate eyes, than of those which were re- 
mote, however vital to the cause. We have seen how 



CONDITION OF THE SOUTHERN ARMY. 305 

small had been the regard shown by Congress and the 
north to the army of the south. Greene was destined, in 
his moment of greatest necessity, to suffer from another 
proof of this selfish partiality. It was at the very moment 
when the time of service of the Virginia line was about 
to expire, with not a single recruit from that state on the 
march to supply its place, when he was advised that 
his reinforcements from Maryland and Delaware, seven 
hundred in number, had been arrested and embodied 
with the army against Cornwallis. Yet these had 
been regarded as absolutely necessary to enable him to 
keep the field. He had voluntarily abandoned to Vir- 
ginia and Lafayette all other reinforcements. Yet, at 
this very time, the New England states had a countless 
multitude of troops on paper, myriads if we may believe 
the chronicles, and there was actually a force of six 
thousand Frenchmen operating with the army of Wash- 
ington and Lafayette against this very force of Lord 
Cornwallis. Well might the officers and soldiers of the 
southern army feel themselves abandoned, if not sacrificed. 
"Why struggle longer — they have abandoned us — let 
us yield the contest — let us retire." " Never," cried 
Greene with a noble constancy of purpose, as the mur- 
mur reached his ears : — " I will deliver this country or 
perish !" He was willing to meet all the peril, to make 
all the sacrifice, to continue the almost hopeless-seeming 
struggle to the last, unsupported, unassisted, if the strug- 
gle and the endurance were necessary for the safety of 
the country, and if that country could do nothing better 
for the cause. And yet he is compelled to remark in a 
letter to Washington — "I am told your force in Vir- 
ginia amounts to little less than fifteen thousand men ; 
if so the Maryland troops will be of little or no conse- 
quence." His officers and men were not equally patient 
with himself, and one of his chief labors was to quiet 
26* 



306 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

them. Fortunately, one of his subjects of anxiety was 
soon to cease. 

On the 9th of November, the grateful intelligence 
reached the camp of the fall of Yorktown and the cap- 
ture of Cornwallis, an event which had taken place fully 
twenty days before. The day was observed as a jubilee. 
All punishments were remitted, all prisoners discharged, 
and the few luxuries that were to be found in camp were 
distributed with liberal hand, that no countenance might 
remain darkened at a moment when the occasion was so 
full of joy. It was now the hope of Greene that the 
French fleet and army might co-operate with him in an 
attempt on Charleston, and that the army which had cap- 
tured Cornwallis might be set in motion for the south. 
But the co-operation of the French commander could 
not be secured ; and, in respect to the northern army, 
those who knew with what difficulty the New England 
troops could be persuaded to approach Yorktown, could 
have but little expectation of persuading them still fur- 
ther south. They constituted about one third of Wash- 
ington's army ; and the detachments sent to Greene were 
drawn entirely from the contingents of Maryland and 
Pennsylvania. These were confided to the command of 
General St. Clair and Wayne. They were now compelled, 
in midwinter, to traverse a weary extent of territory, and 
when they reached the camp of Greene, which they did 
not until the 4th of January, 1782, their number was less 
by one half than when it crossed the Potomac. 

Advised, however, of this promised reinforcement, 
upon which he was taught to build largely, Greene felt 
the necessity, at an early period in October, of resuming 
active operations. He was able, during this month, to 
replace the six-pounders which he had lost at the Eutaws, 
and was joined about this time by Colonels Shelby and 
Seviere with five hundred mountaineers; a detachment 



MOVEMENT OF THE PARTISANS. 307 

of one hundred and sixty North-Carolina recruits was 
also added to his infantry; his wounded were recovering 
and able to take their place in the ranks, and the harvest 
being in and the cool weather beginning to prevail, the 
several commands of Sumter, Marion, and the other parti- 
sans, had been collecting around their favorite leaders. 
The army once more began to assume that appear- 
ance of strength and order which promised usefulness 
and demanded employment. Seviere and Shelby, with 
Horry and Mayham, were placed under Marion, whose 
scene of operations was the country between the Santee 
and Charleston. Together they formed a very efficient 
command of cavalry, mounted infantry, and riflemen. 
Sumter, with his brigade of state troops, and some com- 
panies from his own, and the militia brigades of Pickens, 
was ordered to take post at Orangeburg, and to cover 
the country from the forays of the loyalists assembled in 
Charleston. Pickens, with two regiments, traversed the 
mountain frontiers, checking at all points the civil war, 
which ever and anon flamed up in that quarter; and over- 
awing the hostile Indians who were always in readiness 
to rise. 

These several parties soon found employment and were 
kept watchful. Sumter's command was soon tasked to 
arrest the upward progress of General Cunningham, with 
a strong body of seven hundred loyalists, whose aim was 
to regain position in the upper country, and who, gain- 
ing some advantages over one of Sumter's detachments, 
compelled the later to fall back to a position of greater 
security. The force of the two parties being nearly equal, 
they were employed for awhile as checks upon each other. 
Marion was also brought to a halt by encountering Col- 
onel Stuart at Wan toot with a force of nearly two thou- 
sand men, a force quite too great to be attempted by a 
command so inferior as that of our partisan. Stuart's 



308 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

object was provisions and plunder. Anticipating the siege 
of Charleston, naturally, as the result of the fall of York- 
town, and the leisure which that event must afford to the 
army and the navy of the French, he was diligently ac- 
cumulating supplies ; including, in this category, thousands 
of slaves, who were useful in the laborious work of forti- 
fying the place, and, in the event of its fall, profitable as 
plunder in the "West India markets. The British were 
still superior to the Americans in number; but the moral 
of their army had been greatly impaired by recent events. 
The affair at the Eutaws, had grievously lessened their 
enterprise, while it had shown in the native militia an 
audacity and hardihood, which greatly encouraged their 
own, and the hopes of their leaders. With an ample 
commissariat, Grreene could have attempted boldly ; but 
the very shifts to which his necessities reduced him were 
of a kind to impair the virtues of his soldiers and to les- 
sen their efficiency in all respects. In the ordnance and 
quartermaster's departments everything was wanting. 
There was no ammunition — half of the troops were with- 
out tents — there were no axes, few camp-kettles, and, 
until this period, no canteens. Mere valor, courage, 
and constancy, in the soldiers, were of little avail under 
these deficiencies. The moral sufficed to encourage their 
general in a bold demonstration, and his reliance was 
rather upon this moral, and upon its inferiority in the 
enemy, than upon any of the substantial resources by 
which an army's victories are won. But it was useless 
to repine at wants which no complaining could supply; 
and it was Greene's hope to remedy, by energy and skill, 
the defects of fortune. On the 18th of November, the 
camp on the hills was again broken up and the army set 
in motion for below. The line of march led by Simons' 
and M'Cord's ferries, through Orangeburg to Riddle- 
spurgers, and thence by the Indian Field road where 



RKTREAT OP STUART. 309 

that road crosses the Edisto to Ferguson's mill. The 
design of Greene was to take post on the Four Holes, 
for the twofold purpose of covering the country beyond 
him and controlling the operations of the enemy on his 
right. To secure the army in this progress, Marion, sup- 
ported by Captain Eggleston with the legion, strengthen- 
ed by a detachment of the Virginia line, was ordered to 
keep in check the force under Stuart. Without this se- 
curity on his left, Greene would scarcely have ventured 
upon a position so much exposed to an attack from 
Charleston. But Marion was suddenly stripped of a large 
portion of his detachment by the desertion of his mount- 
aineers, to whom, at this moment, the employment was 
ndt sufficiently active, and who, becoming discontented, 
had gone off in a body. This was a loss of five hundred 
men at a moment's warning, and after a service of three 
weeks, in which Fairlawn was captured, and the tributary 
posts on Cooper river disquieted by frequent demonstra- 
tion, to which the disappearance of the mountaineers put 
a sudden finish. But for the vast proportion on the sick 
list of the British troops under Stuart, the flight of the 
mountaineei;^ would have seriously compromised the safe- 
ty of Marion, operating as he did in the neighborhood 
of the post which the former occupied. 

Fortunately for Greene and Marion, the movement of 
the former across the Congaree, had alarmed the British 
general for his own safety. He seems not to have sus- 
pected the feebleness of the one or the difficulties and 
deficiencies of the other, and no doubt still apprehended 
from the appearance of a French fleet upon the coast. 
He was prompted to strike his tents and draw off toward 
Charleston. This movement, evincing a complete ignor- 
ance of the condition of the Americans, and a conscious- 
ness of his own weakness, encouraged Greene to an enter- 
prise which was calculated to confirm all the false impres- 



310 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

sions of the enemy, antl, by forcing him within the walls of 
Charleston, to secure possession of the whole country 
without striking a blow. This was an important object, 
as, at this very juncture. Governor" Rutledge was about 
to re-establish the American authority by calling tlie 
legislature into existence. Proclamations were already 
issued for the general election of members. 

Confiding the army, still on its march, to the care of 
Colonel Williams, G-reene moved briskly forward on the 
route to Dorchester at the head, of four hundred men, 
cavalry and infantry. The cavalry consisted of Lee's 
and Washington's commands, and a hundred men from 
Sumter's. The infantry, including detachments from 
the lines of Maryland and Virginia, was that of the legion. 
Greene flattered himself with the hope that, in addition 
to his other objects, he should surprise Dorchester. For 
this purpose he scattered his cavalry abroad with the view 
to cut off intelligence, covering as large a space in his 
front as possible. With the same object he pursued dif- 
ficult and obscure routes, by swamp and unsuspected 
paths, wherever these could be found. But, in spite of 
these precautions and the celerity of his movements, the 
garrison at Dorchester was apprized of his coming. There 
were too many lurking tories in the swamp thickets, 
too many outlying negroes, who knew the value of such 
intelligence, not to seek for its reward. The tidings of 
his approach reached the British twelve hours in advance 
of himself They lay on their arms at Dorchester all night, 
and, on the next morning, despatched a reconnoitring 
party of fifty loyalists which fell into the hands of Colonel 
Hampton's horse, who suffered few to escape. The re- 
port of the fugitives, brought out the whole body of the 
British cavalry at the post. These were accompanied 
by a strong detachment of infantry. Hampton soon ap- 
peared and darted upon this force consisting chiefly of 



ALARM IN THE IJIIITISH ARMY. 311 

loyalists. They shrunk from the encounter and succeed- 
ed in making their way back into the garrison ; but not 
without losing, killed, wounded, and taken, some thirty 
of their number. The presence of the commander of 
the American army at once inspired the garrison with a 
belief that his v/hole force was approaching. With this 
conviction, they destroyed their stores that night, flung 
their cannon into the Ashley, and commenced their re- 
treat for Charleston. Destroying a contiguous bridge in 
their flight, they arrested the pursuit of Greene, who, in- 
deed, was by no means inclined to press it, since the in- 
fantry of the enemy, alone, exceeded five hundred in num- 
ber. They halted at the Quarter-house, less than six 
miles from Charleston, where they were joined by Colonel 
Stuart with his command. Here, active preparations 
were begun for the purpose of resisting the advance of 
the Americans. Rumor had so magnified the strength 
of Greene, that, in addition to the regiments which could 
be spared from the garrison at Charleston, the British 
general Leslie proceeded to the desperate measure of 
enrolling and arming the negroes. They were stripped 
of their uniforms as soon as the panic was at rest. 

Greene had attained his object. No demonstration 
could have been more brilliant or more successful. His 
ruse had completely deceived the enemy. At this mo- 
ment when Stuart was flying before him, when Leslie 
was marshalling into line, in very desperation, his sable 
regiments, the American general had not in camp eight 
hundred men, and, after supplying with ammunition his 
different detachments, the army had not four rounds left 
to a man. Well had he deserved the applauses which 
this enterprise procured him. Williams writes : " Your 
success at Dorchester would make your enemies hate 
themselves, if all circumstances were generally known ; 
and the same knowledge would make your friends ad- 



312 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. 

mire the adventure even more than they do." This was 
the sentiment of the army. General Washington, wan- 
ting to Laurens of the affair, remarks: " This brilliant 
manoeuvre is another proof of the singular abilities which 
that officer [Greene] possesses." 

On the 7th of December, Greene rejoined his army 
which had taken post at Saundei's' plantation on the 
Round O. He now made his arrangements for keeping 
the ground which he had won. Marion, advancing still 
nearer to Charleston, kept the right of the enemy in 
check ; Sumter, occupied Orangeburg and the Four-Hole 
bridge ; W. Hampton with a detachment of state caval- 
ry kept open the communication with Marion ; Colonels 
Harden and Wilkinson watched the movements of the 
enemy along the tract of country lying between Charles- 
ton and Savannah ; while Lee, in command of the light 
detachment, posted in advance, kept him from prying into 
the real weakness of the American army. To watch and 
wait was all that could be done at present, and while 
the ammunition of the army did not suffice to fill the car- 
touch-boxes of the soldiers. It was a redeeming circum- 
stance that Greene was now encam.ped in a fertile region 
where rice was in abundance, and where the ranges for cat- 
tle were excellent. Here he had room and time for medi- 
tation. His thoughts, those excepted which belonged to 
a consciousness of cares firmly borne and duties faith- 
fully performed, were not of the most grateful descrip- 
tion. His reinforcements under St. Clair and Wayne 
had not yet made their appearance, and advices were 
received of a British fleet from Ireland, with three thou- 
sand troops on board, within two days' sail of Charleston, 
to be followed by another force of two thousand from 
New York. There was no reason to discredit this in- 
telligence ; and Greene at once felt that any such force 
in his present circumstances, would expel him from the 



GREENE S REFLECTIONS AT ROUND O. 313 

country. His labor seemed to have been taken in vain. 
Again the necessity rose before his imagination, for the 
renew^al of all those toilsome marches and countermarches, 
those anxious days and nights, and vi^eeks, and months, 
of watch, and vigilance, exposure, trial, suffering ; the 
defeat of hope, the mockery of expectation; the constant 
disappointment of cherished anticipations, and the as 
frequent defeat of w^ell-laid schemes; w^hich had follow^ed 
from the miserable system vv^hich had decreed him to the 
manufacture of bricks without an adequate supply of 
straw. The British were at work restoring their fortifi- 
cations, collecting provisions, organizing the loyalists, in- 
corporating the slaves into their ranks, preparing, in short, 
for a desperate and final struggle, which, in the event of 
their expulsion from the other states, would leave them 
secure in the possession of Georgia and Carolina. In 
the presence of these facts, Greene conceived the idea 
of recruiting his regiments with negroes also. He had 
witnessed their fidelity to their masters, their patient do- 
cility, and, with a knowledge of their capacity for physi- 
cal endurance, as well of the climate as of ordinary labor, 
he assumed that discipline would do the rest in cojivert- 
ing them into valuable soldiers. His proposition was 
submitted to the governor and council and through them 
to the legislature. It was rejected by that body, and the 
American general was forced to cast about him for other 
means of encountering his enemy. Fortunately, his mind 
was soon relieved in regard to these reported reinforce- 
ments. The formidable body of three thousand troops 
from Ireland was diminished to some sixty artillerists ; 
while, the force from New York, consisted of two regi- 
ments with a squadron of dragoons one hundred and 
fifty in number. Greene took heart. Though disquiet- 
ed at any addition to the enemy's strength, while his own 
27 



314 LIFE OP NATIIANAEL GREENE. 

remained as feeble as before, he was determined to main- 
tain his ground against the present army of the British. 
He declared himself in his letters resolved to fight, and 
so to fight, as, if beaten, to " make the wounds of the en- 
emy sufficient to prevent his pursuit." 



CHANGE OP BRITISH TACTICS. 315 



CHAPTER XXII. 

American Attempt on the British Post at John's Island. — Its Failure. — 
Second Attempt. — Withdrawal of the Garrison. — The Legislature as- 
sembles at Jacksonborough. — Its Character. — Governor Rutledge. — His 
Speech. — Compliments Greene. — Address of the Senate and House of 
Representatives to Greene. — The latter Body votes him Ten Thousand 
Guineas. — Liberality of Georgia and North Carolina. 

The drawn battle at Eutaw, in spite of all the subse- 
quent struggles of the British, was really fatal to their 
power in Carolina. It broke down their spirit, dimin- 
ished their resources, discouraged their friends, and, in 
due degree, increased the energy and enthusiasm of their 
enemies. From this period the real endeavors of the 
British leaders and their tory allies seem to have been 
addressed to the acquisition of spoils. Anticipating the 
approaching necessity which should compel them to aban- 
jdon the pleasant places in which they had luxuriated so 
long, they proceeded to " borrov/ from the Egyptians" in 
a style less courteous than that which the Israelites em- 
ployed. The movement of Stuart toward the Santee, 
and that of the loyalists about the same time toward the 
upper country, were designed for like objects, and hence 
the importance of the demonstration made by the Amer- 
ican general, in his rapid progress toward Dorchester. 
The effect of that progress was to arrest the spoiler in 
his employment ; to force him to forego the further hope 
of plunder in the region which he then occupied, and to 
hurry below with his sick and woundod, crowding them 
into the already crowded limits of the city. The forces 



316 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

of the British were now cooped up within the narrow 
limits of "the Neck" — the suburb of the city lying be- 
tween the rivers Cooper and Ashley, and extending some 
six miles only into the country — and the islands which 
lie adjacent to the metropolis. Their whole army had 
really become only a garrison for Charleston. 

To diminish this area* by all possible means, Greene 
conceived the plan of expelling them from John's island, 
where they still maintained a considerable detachment 
under Craig. This measure was conceived to be neces- 
sary, in order to give proper security to the legislature, 
now about to assemble at Jacksonborough. This little 
village lies on the Edisto, and within easy striking dis- 
tance from the island in question. John's island, in ad- 
dition to the detachment under Craig, was guarded at 
every accessible point by galleys carrying guns of heavy 
calibre. It was ascertained that there was one point of 
approach to the island, which, at certain periods of the 
tide, was accessible. Here, at low water, the passage 
might be forded ; and, to cover this point, two well- 
manned galleys had been stationed within four hundred 
yards of each other. It was also ascertained that the 
passage was not watched with any great degree of vigi^- 
lance, and the attempt upon the island was confided to 
Colonels Lee and Laurens. The enterprise was one of 
difficulty and peril, and the movements of the assailing 
party were required to be made at night. To divert the 
attention of the enemy from the real point of attack, the 
main army moved on the 12th of January, 1782, on the 
route to Wallace's bridge. Two light detachments, mean- 
while, under Laurens, crossing the country from Ashley 
river, headed the north branch of the Stono on the night 
of the 13th, and advanced to " New-Cut," which is at 
the head of the south branch. The main army, which 
had halted on the night of the 12th, as if for the purpose 



I 

•I 



ATTEMPT ON JOHN's ISLAND. 317 

of encampment, was, however, once more put in motion, 
soon after dark, and, following the route of the light de- 
tachments, with the view to supporting them, reached the 
New-Cut before the hour of low water, at which period 
only is the ford passable. Here Greene found his at- 
tacking party in a state of embarrassment. This select 
body of troops had been separated into two columns on the 
march, Lee's column being in advance, and Laurens in 
person accompanying it. The other column was con- 
fided to Major Hamilton, and, not moving at the same 
time with the former, a guide had been left with it to 
show the route. No mistake was apprehended, but the 
guide disappeared while on the march, having probably 
lost his way, and being ashamed or afraid of the conse- 
quences of his error. The column under Laurens was 
passed over to the island, in the meanwhile, in perfect 
safety, and there awaited the approach of that under Ham- 
ilton. It was not in sufficient strength to attempt the assault 
without the support of its associate, Craig's force being 
well posted, numbering five hundred men, and covered 
by the galleys, which, in the event of an alarm, could ef- 
fectually cut off the retreat of the assailants and prevent 
them from receiving help by the only avenue of approach. 
And this avenue was about to be closed. The tide was 
now rising, and nothing had been done. It became neces- 
sary to recall the detachment of Laurens, before its retreat 
should be cut off, and the order to this effect, delayed to 
the last possible moment, was at length reluctantly given. 
The tide was now running breast high, and a few min- 
utes' longer pause would have compromised the safety 
of the party. They recrossed, vexed and disappointed, 
just as day was breaking, and had scarcely regained the 
main when they discovered the lost column straggling 
into sight, having been wandering about all night in the 
vain effort to resume the road from which it had igno- 
27* 



318 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

rantly gone astray. The annoyance was equally great 
to all parties. It was one of those mischances, however, 
which occasion no reproach. The best zeal and cour- 
age are thus sometimes thrown away, through ignorance 
or want of fidelity in inferior agents. 

But the object was quite too important to be aban- 
doned without another effort. The garrison might be 
destroyed ; it was necessary that it should be removed, 
and there were spoils of value to be acquired. Here the 
British had their pastures, and a large number of cattle 
had been accumulated, which would be quite as useful 
to an American as a British commissariat. Greene re- 
solved on forcing his passage to the island. A boat was 
brought on wagons, and, while his artillery drove the gal- 
leys from the station which they occupied, was launched 
by a party under Colonel Laurens, who passed over to 
the island. He penetrated to Craig's encampment, but 
the bird had flown. The British had become acquainted 
with the narrowness of their escape the night before, and 
had fled, but so precipitately as to leave several strag- 
glers ; while the schooner which they had laden with their 
baggage, and a hundred invalids, had nearly fallen into 
Laurens's hands. Their cattle had been driven across 
the river to the opposite island, or were scattered in the 
woods. The enterprise had been only in part successful. 
Carried out as it had been planned, the affair would 
have been equally brilliant and profitable. Still, the 
purpose of Greene had been attained : the post had been 
wrested from the enemy, their field of operations circum- 
scribed, and all chances of peril to the legislature, during 
its proposed session, from any sudden enterprise of the 
British, were fairly at an end. 

The assembly at Jacksonborough convened on the 18th 
of January. The civil authority of the state was estab- 
lished under the protection of the army. For that mat- 



i», 



OPERATIONS IN GEORGIA, , 319 

ter, it was as much a military as a civil body, the mem- 
bers, in the majority of cases, being those who had car- 
ried and still continued to carry arms, in defence of the 
country. Greene took post with the army at Skirving's 
plantation, six miles in advance of Jacksonborough, on the 
road leading to Charleston. This was on the 16th, two 
days before the opening of the session. He had, a few days 
before, been joined by the long-expected detachments un- 
der St. Clair and Wayne. The Virginia line had been 
dismissed, and the reinforcements did little more than sup- 
ply their place. Believing, however, that the war was 
virtually at an end in South Carolina, and that its close 
would be a simple act of withdrawal, at an early period, 
of the remains of the British power from the country — 
assured, at all events, that, with the force which he pos- 
sessed, and the partisan militia, he should, be quite able 
to maintain his ground against the present strength of the 
British within the state — Greene determined to direct 
his attention to the recovery of Georgia. The enemy at 
this time possessed no foothold in the interior of Georgia. 
His possessions, after the fall of Augusta, had been chiefly 
confined to the seaboard. His vessels swept the coast 
from Charleston and Savannah to St. Augustine, without 
impediment; but his only garrisoned posts in the coun- 
try, besides Savannah, were at Ebenezer and Ogeechee. 
Of these he was soon dispossessed by the partisan militia 
under Twiggs and Jackson ; but the country was still 
traversed by armed bands of tories, and parties from 
Florida, mixed savages and whites. To strike at Savan- 
nah, which was the centre of strength and energy to 
these wandering parties, and to disperse these parties 
also, Greene despatched General Wayne, soon after his 
arrival in camp, with a force consisting of the third regi- 
ment of dragoons and a detachment of artillery. He was 
to assume command of the American army in Georgia. 



320 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GEEENE. 

Hampton's cavalry was also placed at his disposal, and 
the militia of Carolina along the Savannah river, under 
General Barnwell, were ordered to co-operate with him 
whenever called upon. It was impossible, with the in- 
feriority of his own army, to do more for the sister state 
than he had done. He was considered as perilling him- 
self and the legislature, by stripping himself of these de- 
tachments ; the more particularly, as the assembling of 
this body, within hearing of his posts, had given great 
offence to the British general, who only waited for rein- 
forcements " to resent the insult of convening the legis- 
lature to sit and deliberate within hearing of his reveille^ 
It is not within our province to review the legislation 
of this assembly, at this renewal of its civil obligations, un- 
der the peculiar circumstances in which we find it placed. 
That the members should have legislated in all respects 
temperately and wisely is scarcely to be expected at this 
juncture, laboring as they did under a thousand excite- 
ments and provocations, and fresh from the army with- 
out venturing to unbrace the sabre from the side. The 
convocation of this body had become necessary for the 
restoration of civil order, for the raising of supplies, the 
organization of the militia, the very safety of the army. 
It was necessary, also, with regard to the anticipated 
evacuation of the city, for the prevention of waste and 
plunder. For two years the government of the state, 
where the country was not in the grasp of the enemy, 
had been solely confided to the individual will and judg- 
ment of John Rutledge, its governor. Powers had been 
conferred upon him to see that the republic sustained no 
harm. The large discretion thus confided to this remark- 
able man, were in no instance abused or suffered to rust 
from non-user. He had traversed the country at all pe- 
riods, in all difficulties, shared the perils and fortunes 
of the army for many months, and exercised an equal 



RESTORATION OF CIVIL ORDER. 321 

constancy and ingenuity in enduring privation and pro- 
viding against emergency. He brought to the necessi- 
ties of the army the sanction of the civil power, and rec- 
onciled to many of the extremities of martial service the 
high-spirited and impatient volunteers, who are but too 
apt to suspect the military arm of tyranny and injustice. 
To restore the power which he had s^vayed to the peo- 
ple from whom it was obtained — to render an account of 
his administration — to recall the exiles to their homes 
— to encourage them with hopes of peace and indepen- 
dence — to organize the links of society once more — to 
bring back obedience to the laws, and reconcile with 
prosperity and order those liberties for which all the 
struggle had been taken — was, equally with Greene and 
Rutledge, a duty and desire. Their responsibilities had 
been no less heavy than their distinctions had been high ; 
and it was with feelings of equal pride and relief that 
they welcomed to the halls of council the citizens who 
had been so long scattered abroad in dismay and appre- 
hension. 

The long interval between the fall of Charleston, in 
1780, and the present moment, had been one of terrible 
vicissitudes and the most humiliating necessities. The 
state had been overborne in the conflict ; their regular 
troops cut up in frequent conflict, and finally made cap- 
tive ; their partisan militia still maintaining the unequal 
conflict whenever the odds of the combat would allow, 
and, under favorite leaders, preserving the spirit of lib- 
erty and a determined resistance, without other motive 
than the love of country ; and this without pay, or pro- 
visions, or clothing, or any supplies needful to the spirit 
as well as the strength of a soldiery. They had seen 
their brethren in exile and captivity — wandering as fu- 
gitives in swamp and thicket, seeking to elude the blood- 
hounds set upon their path by the conqueror, or crowded 



322 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. 

by thousands into the narrow hold of the prison-ship, 
sweltering with heat and pestilence, and perishing of the 
most loathsome diseases. Armies furnished by their sis- 
ter states of the south had been cut off by the rashness 
of their generals ; other armies had been barely kept 
alive and in safety by a prudence that dared venture 
nothing in the inferiority of their numbers, and in the 
neglect of those authorities w^hich failed to provide for 
the necessities of their starving and naked regiments. 
But courage and perseverance, constancy and patriot- 
ism, had at length succeeded in enduring and in triumph- 
ing over all. The bow of promise was arched above the 
land, and the billows of invasion were slowly but cer- 
tainly receding from the shores on every side. Well 
might the noble partisan lift his forehead as he passed 
from the camp to the council-board, with the gi-atified 
sense of a duty well performed and a peril nobly defied 
and undergone. Nor were the soldiers who met on this 
occasion, to restore to South Carolina the eegis of law 
and order, merely men of arms and blood, stern and res- 
olute, with wills made stubborn by habitual authority, and 
souls set only on its retention and maintenance. The 
body which assembled at Jacksonborough were men sin- 
gularly distinguished for talent and moderation ; they 
were citizens first and last — soldiers only under the exi- 
gency which denied that they should be citizens of a free 
state. No people could have assembled in better spirit 
or temper, more disposed to be considerate of the claims 
of others, or more indulgent even to their enemies. That 
they erred in one respect seems to be admitted ; but we 
are scarcely in the situation now to determine of the ne- 
cessities which at that period compelled men to put on 
the severe aspects of resentment and indignation, partic- 
ularly as the enemy still threatened from his fortresses, 
and still the outlawed tory, leagued with the hireling sav- 



governor's address. 323 

age to desolate the frontier. If the legislature of Jack- 
sonborough seemed to be vindictive in one of its meas- 
ures, w^e are not to forget the extent of its provocation, 
and the dangers which still beset the country, and ren- 
dered severity to some the source of security to others, 
who might otherwise have provoked punishment by pre- 
suming on indulgence. 

The governor,^ in his opening address — a masterly 
performance, which reviewed the history of the interim 
with a comprehensive and impartial judgment — conclu- 
ded with a high eulogium upon the conduct of Greene 
and the troops under him. " I can now," said he, " con- 
gi'atulate you, and I do so cordially, in the pleasing change 
of affairs, which, under the blessing of God, the wisdom, 
prudence, address, and bravery, of the great and gallant 
General Greene, and the intrepidity of the officers and 
men under his command, has been happily effected." He 
urged the claims of Greene " to honorable and singular 
marks of our approbation and gratitude." — "His suc- 
cesses," continued the orator, "have been more rapid 
and complete than the most sanguine could have ex- 
pected. The enemy, compelled to surrender or evacu- 
ate every post which they held in the country, frequently 
defeated and driven from place to place, are obliged now 
to seek refuge under the walls of Charleston and on the 
islands in its vicinity. We have now full and absolute 
possession of every part of the state; and the legislative, 
judicial, and executive powers are in the free exercise 
of their respective authorities." 

The tone and spirit of the governor's eulogy on Greene 
were met by a corresponding sentiment on the part of 
both houses of the legislature. They expressed them- 
selves in terais of equal praise and gratitude. The sen- 
ate declared itself " impressed with a high sense of the 
eminent services" which he had rendered to the country. 



324 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. 

and unanimously voted him their thanks, in behalf of the 
state, " for the distinguished zeal and generalship which 
he had displayed on every occasion, particularly during 
the last campaign." They expressed themselves sensi- 
ble of the many disadvantages under which he took com- 
mand of the army ; and that it was to his " superior mili- 
tary genius and enterprising spirit were to be attiibuted 
the blessings" which their people now enjoyed — the res- 
toration of their country, and the securities of a free con- 
stitution. The house expressed itself in like manner, but 
gave an additional proof of its gratitude by originating a 
bill ** for vesting in General Nathanael Greene, in con- 
sideration of his important services, the sum of ten thou- 
sand guineas." This liberality was of great importance 
to Greene. He was poor. He had left the smithy for 
the camp. His paternal property, originally small, had 
not improved in value during his absence, and, in fact, 
his private resources had been consumed by the exigen- 
cies of his public station. He was probably, when this 
grant was made, not worth a copper in the world. The 
gift of South Carolina, the spontaneous acknowledgment 
of her gratitude for his services and sacrifices in her cause, 
came to him at a seasonable moment, to lighten his heart 
of its anxieties, and relieve him of the harassing doubts 
which prompted him continually to inquire of himself, 
from what quarter, the war being over, should he find 
the means to support a large and growing family. But 
the liberality of South Carolina was fruitful of other 
and similar results. It furnished the proper example to 
Georgia and North Carolina. These states were not to 
be outdone, though anticipated, in generosity. The for- 
mer voted to him five thousand guineas, and the latter 
twenty-four thousand acres of land. 



WAYNE IN GEORGIA. 325 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

The State of the Army. — Wayne's Victories in Georgia. — Discontents 
among the Troops of Greene. — Treachery of Soldiers of the Pennsylva- 
nia Line. — Their Detection and Punishment. — Continued Disti-ess and 
Sickness of the Ai-my. — Movements of the British. — Marion defeats 
Fraser. — Affair on the Combaliee. — Death of L aureus. — Pickens punishes 
the Tories and the Indians. 

Leaving the legislature free to pursue its delibera- 
tions, and heedful only to make it secure while doing so, 
Greene continued to watch his enemy with a patient anx- 
iety that suffered nothing of consequence to escape his 
attention. The British afforded him very few opportu- 
nities for enterprise. His resources were quite too small 
to suffer him to attempt anything of magnitude, and they 
gave him but few provocations to activity in minor mat- 
ters. They no longer exhibited that impatient desire for 
performance which had marked their character in the 
previous campaign, and their endeavors were confined 
to small predatory incursions, for the collection of plun- 
der or provisions. The war was really transferred to 
Georgia. Here Wayne was acquiring laurels daily, pres- 
sing the enemy on every hand, cutting off his supplies, 
and sweeping the loyalists from before his face with an 
unsparing besom. In a little while the British were con- 
fined entirely within the precincts of Savannah ; and the 
Georgians, following the example of South Carolina, re- 
organized their legislative assembly at Ebenezer, within 
hearing of the British reveille at Savannah, and under the 
protection of the American army. The result of Wayne's 
28 



326 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

activity was shortly to compel the evacuation of Savan- 
nah, an event which increased the number of Greene's 
enemies in Charleston, since the garrison of the former 
city, nearly a thousand men, was transferred to the latter. 
This event rendered necessary the return of Wayne's 
troops to South Carolina, where, during the progress of 
events in Georgia, affairs had begun to assume a less en- 
couraging aspect. A variety of unfortunate incidents, 
which may all be traced to the positive weakness of the 
army in Carolina, had subjected Marion's command, in 
the absence of that general at headquarters, or in attend- 
ing on the legislature, to some vexatious reverses ; the 
result of which was, to lay open the whole country from 
the Edisto to the vSantee to the incursions of the enemy. 
This region of country had been confided to the keeping 
of Marion's brigade. In Marion's absence, the brigade 
was under the command of Horry. A question of rank 
between this gentleman and Colonel Mayham, who was 
ranked by Horry, led to the absence of that cordial co- 
operation between the two which alone could insure the 
usefulness of the command. Before this quarrel could 
be settled, the British had obtained several slight suc- 
cesses over some of the parties of the brigade, and finally 
in Mayham's absence with his horse, the brigade itself 
, was surprised and dispersed at Wambaw, by a sudden 
movement from Charleston, up Cooper river, of a strong 
detachment of horse, foot, and artillery, under Colonel 
Thomson, afterward the celebrated Count Rumford. A 
subsequent attempt upon the cavalry of this detachment, 
made by Mayham's horse, under the lead of Marion, was 
wholly unsuccessful, arising from an unhappy error of 
the officer who led his column to the charge. Marion's 
force was thus temporarily dispersed, with a serious loss 
in arms and horses. His presence, however, sufficed to 
bring them once more around him in considerable num- 



LAW PROHIBITING IMPRESSMENTS. 327 

bers, and to restore confidence among them. The ap- 
proach of Colonel Laurens to his assistance, with a de- 
tachment from the army, soon compelled the British to 
retire, with the stock and provisions which they had been 
able to procure, and which, quite as much as the attempt 
on the brigade, had been the object of the expedition. 
General Leslie, indeed, had begun to be exceedingly 
straitened in Charleston by the cordon which had sepa- 
rated him from the country. He had been already com- 
pelled to butcher the horses of a large portion of his cav- 
alry, which he was no longer in the condition to feed ; and 
his enterprises were scarcely prompted by any object more 
inspiring than that of a present necessity. There was 
no longer, indeed, a motive for enterprise, beyond the 
support of the garrison. The British ministry were evi- 
dently about to forego a contest of which their people were 
heartily tired. The approach of peace was scarcely to 
be doubted, and it is not improbable that Leslie's instruc- 
tions were to economize his strength and resources, and 
peril nothing further in a conflict in which the hope of 
triumph was at an end. An occasional foraging party 
issued from the garrison of Charleston, and, having 
snatched up its prey, hurried back to the shelter of their 
lines with a rapidity which mostly mocked pursuit. 

The winter wore away in this manner. The legisla- 
ture of South Carolina, meanwhile, had adjourned. John 
Mathews had been elected a governor in place of Rut- 
ledge, who retired. Mathews was friendly to Greene 
and to the army ; and so, indeed, were most of the mem- 
bers composing the assembly. It was not, therefore, with 
any wish to embarrass the operations of the army, that a 
law was passed prohibiting impressments. This put an 
end to foraging. To provide the army with all necessa- 
ry supplies, the governor was empowered to take order. 
A law was enacted requiring that he should, from time 



328 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. 

to time, appoint a sufficient number of fit and proper 
persons, in different parts of the state, as agents or com- 
missioners, to procure their supplies. All other persons 
were strictly forbidden to do so. It was no doubt ne- 
cessary to arrest the unlicensed foraging, which but too 
much prevailed, under the alleged necessities of the army, 
to the distress and impoverishment of the country. But 
the support of the army was thus made to depend up- 
on commissioners appointed by another authority than 
that which could determine upon its wants, and who, 
if incompetent to perform their duties, could only be 
removed by the appointing power. Meanwhile, the sol- 
diers had no means of procuring supplies. If the com- 
missioner failed them, they must starve and suffer. The 
commissioner did fail them. In a little time the army 
was in great distress. The troops were frequently with- 
out provisions. Greene remonstrated with the governor, 
but could not shake his confidence in the person he em- 
ployed. The army continued to suffer, soothed by en- 
treaties and occasional full supplies, or subdued by se- 
verities, which their impatient discontents seemed to 
provoke. They could plead, in mitigation of their of- 
fences, the extremity of their wants. Their nakedness 
and wretchedness might well excuse their excitements. 
A very large proportion of them were actually without 
clothes. The tattered fragments were kept together by 
thorns of the locust, their substitute for pins and needles ; 
and happy was the wretch who could piece his rags with 
the refuse of others, better clad, which his better fortune 
threw in his way. The old troops of Greene bore up 
bravely under their privations, but the additions to his 
army, brought by St. Clair, were not calculated to im- 
prove its morale. The Pennsylvania line was composed 
of the very mutineers who had triuTnphed over govern- 
ment in the Jersey insurrection. There was in it, in- 






ARMY ENCAMPED AT BACON's BRIDGE. 329 

deed, one of the sergeants who had been put in com- 
mand of the regiments in that mutiny, with a number of 
others of like character who had deserted from the Brit- 
ish while he had possession of Philadelphia. These 
wretches were ripe for any mischief, and they were suffi- 
ciently practised to refine upon it. The soldiers, brought 
to the verge of mutiny before their arrival, by their dis- 
tress and misery, were not helped by their connexion. 
We shall shortly see the fruits of it. 

With the adjournment of the legislature, the army of 
Greene moved from Skirving's down to Bacon's bridge, 
on Ashley river. Here he was within twenty miles of 
the enemy, within striking distance, and accessible by 
land and water. His securities from any enterprise of 
the British lay in the latter's sluggishness and his own cau- 
tion rather than Greene's strength. He was yet to appre- 
ciate the element of mischief, within his own camp, of 
which he had certainly made no calculation while esti- 
mating his securities. But, with the opening of spring, 
it became obvious that a new life was beginning to pre- 
vail in the Charleston garrison. Greene was well pro- 
vided with spies in that city, some of whom, indeed, were 
persons of no small notoriety. The vigilance of Marion 
had made this provision, and his judgment of character 
had secured him against deception. These were now 
busier than ever, since there was much to report, the se- 
cret of which they could not wholly fathom. A new 
spirit was evidently at work in the British army, signifi- 
cant of objects of importance which could not yet be con- 
jectured. Designs were on foot upon which large cal- 
culations were founded. There was an organization of 
troops, mostly picked men, under select ofiicers. The 
note of preparation was sounded keenly, though in sub- 
dued accents, and all things betokened an enterprise on 
foot which showed that, if compelled to give up their 
28* 



330 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GEEENE. 

conquests, the British were not unwilling to crown the 
humiliating necessity by some redeeming and brilliant 
performance. 

These movements were all conveyed to Greene. He 
readily conjectured their import. He was sensible equally 
of the condition of his army, and of the demoralizing 
influence which had been at work, for some time, to im- 
pair its usefulness and increase its discontents. He was 
by no means ignorant of the refuse character of a con- 
siderable portion of his late reinforcements. Besides, he 
was no longer surrounded by those veteran troops who 
had traversed with him, in weary march and counter- 
march, the wildernesses of North Carolina — who had 
fought with him at Guilford, at Hobkirk's, and at Eu- 
taw. His well-tried officers were with him no longer. 
Williams had returned to Maryland ; Howard still suf- 
fered from his wounds ; Wayne was still gathering lau- 
rels in Georgia ; St. Clair had obtained leave of absence ; 
the partisans were all operating in detachments ; Marion 
on the left ; Pickens among the Indians, while Sumter 
had retired in disgust. The legion of Lee was almost 
stripped of its officers, Lee himself having retired, like 
Sumter, in disgust and dissatisfaction. 

Greene felt his danger from his deficiencies. These, 
at once, led him to suspect the source and secret of his 
danger, and of the enemy's projected enterprise. His 
fears were still more .enlivened by the discontents and 
bickerings among many of his remaining officers. Re- 
viewing his condition, the materials of his army, its ne- 
cessities and discontents, and the various signs which 
could not entirely escape him, his quick instincts asso- 
ciated the designs of the British with the discontents 
among his troops. But how these were to operate, he 
had no knowledge. He could only renew his diligence, 
his watch, his circumspection, and put in exercise all the 



MUTINY OF THE PENNSYLVANIA LINE. 831 

agents upon which lie could rely for security against mis- 
hap. Meanwhile, treason was busy in his camp. His 
Pennsylvania mutineers, such as had been conspicuous 
in Jersey, had opened a communication with the enemy. 
Their discontents were known to the British, and their 
promises and demands were heard with greedy attention. 
They were to sell Greene and his army — what the price 
and what the process, have never been accurately known 
— and the object was quite too important to the desper- 
ate cause of the invader to make him scruple at the 
scheme, or the conditions upon which it was to be pros- 
ecuted. Sergeant Gornell was at the head of the con- 
spiracy. He had entered upon it with equal skill and 
secrecy. He seems to have been an adept in the busi- 
ness, and his plans were almost matured for execution. 
A day was fixed upon when a mutinous demonstration 
of the Pennsylvanians was to be covered and counte- 
nanced by the sudden appearance, in force, of the British 
army. We have seen that the preparations of the latter 
were of a nature to render the scheme successful, should 
it once be permitted to attain full ripeness in the Ameri- 
can camp. 

Fortunately, it was destined that such should not be 
the case. The conspirators had grown insolent from im- 
punity, and, in degree as they became confident of suc- 
cess, they grew careless of the means of security. Their 
mutinous language reached the ears of their superiors, 
and increased their vigilance. An attempt to work upon 
the fidelity of the Maryland line, was the first clue to 
their secret machinations, and the keen ears of a woman, 
one of the followers of the camp, arrived at other clues, 
which conducted to the conspiracy. This was all that 
was required to enable justice to decide upon her vic- 
tims. The vigilant eyes of Greene had already fastened 
upon the doubtful persons, and his prompt decision ^.T\d 



332 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

becoming rigor strangled the treason on the eve of exe- 
cution. Putting his most trusted troops in order for the 
enemy, he sent a despatch to Marion to hasten to the 
camp with all the force that he could muster, and, at the 
same moment, the hand of arrest was laid upon the con- 
spirators. Gornell, and several others, were brought 
before a court-martial and tried for their crimes. The 
former was condemned and executed. Four other ser- 
geants of the same line were sent under a strong guard 
into the interior, and twelve soldiers broke away that 
night, apprehending arrest, and made their escape to the 
enemy. Almost simultaneously with these events, the 
British horse made their appearance, hovering about the 
outposts of the American camp. They succeeded in 
capturing ten of the legion cavalry, which unexpectedly 
encountered them ; but they failed utterly in securing 
the contemplated and more important prey. The great 
preparations of General Leslie came to nought, and his 
detachment sunk back once more under cover of the me- 
tropolis. Nothing accrued to him from this deep and 
well-planned conspiracy, which was eifectually crushed 
by the blow which fell upon the offender at the proper 
moment. The mutinous temper ceased among the 
troops, though their causes for complaint were by no 
means lessened. Their wants were still of a kind which 
we must suppose could only have been borne by those 
whose crude virtues were sustained by a spirit very far 
superior to that which belongs to fear. Still were they 
compelled to suffer the want of adequate food and cloth- 
ing, and as the sultry heats of summer began to prevail, 
their distress was aggravated by the diseases of the cli- 
mate which now rapidly began to spread through the 
camp. This was unavoidably transferred to a sickly re- 
gion. As the necessities of the service required, Greene 
gradually drew nigher to the metropolis. In April he 



SICKNESS IN CAMP AT ASHLEY HILL. 333 

had moved from Bacon's bridge to Beach Hill, a distance 
of but seventeen miles from Charleston. In July we 
find the army at Ashley hill, and still nearer to the Brit- 
ish garrison. This position, which favored the objects 
of the campaign, was yet in the very heart of the malaria 
influence. Here the rich swamps and teeming fields in 
which the rice crop fl.ourished, assailed with deadly en- 
mity the more delicate organization of the white man, 
and with every breath he imbibed the subtle poison of 
an atmosphere in which the African alone could luxu- 
riate in safety. Yet here, amid severest suffering, the 
army remained throughout the summer. The camp be- 
came a hospital. Greene himself was prostrated by the 
fever, as well as most of his officers and men in turn, and 
all of them agreed that a conflict with thrice the number 
of their foes, in open field, under the worst circum- 
stances, was infinitely preferable at any time to the hu- 
miliating and exhausting straggle with a danger to which 
no courage or strength could offer itself without discom- 
fiture, and which no degree of caution could escape. 

But the partisan militia were not allowed to remain 
with G-reene during this season of sickness and prostration. 
Marion, about the middle of July, having consolidated 
his resfiments, was enabled to cross the Santee, and take 
post on the Wassamasaw, another region equally liable to 
the pernicious malaria influences of the low country. 
Here, his employment was to cover the country, and co- 
operate, when necessary, with the main army. But the 
increase of strength which General Leslie had acquired 
by the transfer of the gamson of Georgia to the metrop- 
olis, now enabled the latter to assume an aspect of greater 
activity. He proceeded to arm a numerous fleet of small 
vessels, with a strong body of troops. These, convoyed 
by galleys and brigs-of-war, issued from Charleston, des- 
tined, as it was thought, to operate against Georgetown. 



334 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

To this place Marion was accordingly ordered. But the 
enterprise of the enemy took another direction. Their 
object was plunder and provisions. They penetrated 
the south Santee with this object, and gleaned largely 
from the rice along the banks of that river. Marion, 
meanwhile, had rapidly thrown his cavalry across the 
Sampit, so as to intercept them in their anticipated march 
to Georgetown, the public stores and provisions of which 
he proceeded to place in security. He had left behind 
him a small body of infantry at Watboo, which, as his 
absence with the cavalry was known, attracted the atten- 
tion of the British. But the famous partisan was not un- 
mindful of his flock. The enemy did not make sufficient 
allowance for the rapidity of his movements. He was 
back among his infantry, in waiting for their approach, 
while they thought him busy on the Santee. Attacked 
by Major Frazier, early on the 29th of August, at Wat- 
boo, he totally discomfited him in a brief conflict, in 
which the British suffered severely. They were only 
saved from the rapid pursuit of Marion's horse, by the 
timely appearance of a strong detachment of infantry, 
before which Marion himself was compelled to retire. 

Another detachment of the British foraging fleet was 
sent to penetrate the Combahee. General Gist, with his 
light brigade, was ordered to cover the plantations in this 
quarter. It was while in commajid of a detachment of 
this brigade, that the gallant Colonel Laurens, one of 
the most remarkable and highly endowed of the young 
men of the Revolution, met his death. Hearing of the 
British movement, and of the duties assigned to the 
light brigade to which he was attached, he rose from a 
sick bed, on which he was scarcely convalescent, and hur- 
rying away to the southward, succeeded in overtaking 
the brigade which was already on the north bank of the 
Combahee river. At the head of a command which he 



DEATH OF LAURENS. 335 

had eagerly solicited, he fell at the first fire, while char- 
ging a superior fiDrce of the enemy, in a skirmish which 
took place at Chehaw point ; an event which could not 
have happened had the despatch which Gist sent to ap- 
prize him of the unexpected superiority of the British 
detachment, not failed to reach him in proper season. 
Greene deeply lamented the fall of this brave young 
man, who has received the title of the "Bayard of the 
Revolution." He writes to General Williams : ''Lau- 
rens has fallen in a paltry little skirmish. You knew his 
temper, and I predicted his fate. The love of military 
glory made him seek it upon occasions unworthy his rank. 
This state will feel his loss." 

This precious life might have been saved. The petty 
skirmish in which he fell was the closing of the struggle. 
The evacuation of the state was already determined upon 
by the invader. A convoying fleet had already arrived 
in Charleston for the purpose of covering the evacua- 
tion and receiving their troops. The expedition to Com- 
bahee had for its sole object the accumulation of the 
provisions necessary for the voyage ; and these, but for 
an unwise rigor on the part of the civil authorities, might 
have been sold to the invader, at a fair price, instead of 
being yielded to him only at ihe price of blood. Gen- 
eral Leslie had made overtures to this effect, and public 
virtue did not require that his application should have 
been rejected. It was clear that the enemy should be 
fed, and equally certain that, if not allowed to traflftc 
peacefully for the provisions which they required, they 
would seize them by violence. The alternative was 
urged by the British general, and was unwisely disre- 
garded by the local authorities. 

A few small events conclude the history of the war* 
The enemy left the Combahee, losing one of their gal- 
leys, which fell into the hands of the Americans, and 



336 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

was ernj^loyed in purging the river of their stragglers. 
The American horse, under Kosciusko, darted upon 
their convoys at James' island, and succeeded in recov- 
ering a number of very fine horses, belonging to citizens 
of the state. Several bold enterprises on John's and 
James' island, by Captain Wilmot, resulted finally in his 
falling into an ambush, in which he perished. This was 
the last blood shed in the war of the Revolution. While 
these events were in progress along the seaboard, Gen- 
eral Pickens, recovered from the wounds received at 
Eutaw, had been employed in the upper country against 
the tories and the Indians. He was particularly suc- 
cessful against both. He carried the war into the heart 
of the savage nations along the borders, compelled them 
to yield at discretion, and exacted a heavy forfeiture in 
lands, as a penalty for their treacheries. The territory 
thus conquered includes all that fine country which lies 
between the upper waters of the Savannah and Chata- 
hoochie. Pickens was the first to employ mounted gun- 
men in the war against the Indian nations. 



Greene's necessities. 337 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

Greene's Necessities. — He resorts to Impressment. — The British prepoixB to 
Evacuate Charleston. — That Event takes place on the 14th of December, 
1782. — The American Army enter tlie City. — Thcii' Reception. — The Joy 
of the Inhabitants. — Condition of Public Affairs in Carolina. — Discontents 
and Difficulties. — Suffeiings of the Amiy. — Mutiny. — Aiiny Disbanded. — 
Greene Revisits tlie Nortli. — His Reception by Congi-ess. — His Monetaiy 
Difficulties. — Greene returns to Caroling. 

The summer had worn away, the winter had set in, 
and still the British were in possession of the metropolis. 
The season through which he had just passed, had been 
to Greene one of the most painful weariness and anxiety. 
The distress of his troops from want of food and from 
sickness — his own sufferings of body — and the mortify- 
ing feeling of a feebleness which forbids performance, 
at the very time when the public service cries for it most, 
had kept the mind of the American general in a contin- 
ued fever of chagrin and disappointment. Yet his watch, 
patient and vigilant, though inactive, was nothing in its 
humiliations to the constant struggle which he was com- 
pelled to maintain with the local authorities to procure 
the necessary provisions for the army. The officer ap- 
pointed by government to furnish supplies, at length to- 
tally failed in his duty, and Grreene was compelled to re- 
sume, however much against his desire, the practice of 
impressing, wherever he could, for the public service. 
He had forborne this necessity as long as possible. 
He had entreated, and counselled, and expostulated, and 
warned, but all in vain ; and to avoid the worse dangers 
29 



338 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. 

of a mutiny, he was compelled to do as the enemy had 
done, seize upon the means of life for those who, devoted 
to the defence of the country, were left without all other 
means of support. But the necessities of the soldier 
are seldom acknowledged, when his service appears no 
longer necessary ; and the measures taken by Greene, 
however essential to the maintenance of his troops, and 
to their good behavior, was greatly offensive to the citi- 
zens. Public feeling on this subject, however, was not 
likely to assume a very decided hostility as long as the 
enemy still held possession of the city, and the exultation 
and joy which followed his evacuation of it, were calcu- 
lated, naturally, to make the people forgetful of all minor 
sources of annoyance. General Leslie's proceedings for 
evacuating Charleston were conducted with a politic os- 
tentation which had its objects. His preparations for 
his departure all complete, he opened negotiations with 
Greene in order that it should be peaceful. There was 
no reason that such should not be the case, as any blow 
struck while the invader was about to withdraw wholly 
from the conflict, would have attested rather a revenge- 
ful spirit than the wisdom of one who never thwarted 
the objects of humanity. 

The 14th of December was the day fixed for the evac- 
uation of Charleston. With the sound of the morning 
gun, the rear-guard abandoned their advanced redoubts. 
With the same signal, the Americans marched in, and 
took possession of them. This duty was assigned to 
Wayne, at the head of three hundred infantry, the cav- 
alry of the legion, and a detachment of artillery. Closely 
did the eager Americans press upon the heels of their 
retiring foes. A distance of two hundred yards between 
the rear of the one and the advance of the other had been 
agreed upon ; but the anxiety of the Americans, resuming 
possession of their ancient city, beholding once more the 



EVACUATION OF CHARLESTON. 339 

old familiar walks and the old familiar faces, from which 
they had been so long separated, made them trespass 
upon this limit, and the cry from the British officers, at 
such moments — " You are pressing up on us — you march 
too fast for us" — would check momentarily the progress, 
and compel a halt which the troops found it exceedingly 
difficult to observe. The lines passed, the enemy filed 
off to Gadsden's wharf, and by eleven o'clock, A. M., 
the embarkation was complete. Wayne marched for- 
ward, and halted at the intersection of the two principal 
streets. Meeting and Broad, taking up his position in 
front of the statehouse. His detachment was followed 
by the calvacade which attended Greene in person — an 
imposing assemblage, consisting of the firsl persons of 
the state, the governor, and his suite and the public au- 
thorities. These were preceded by a detachment of dra- 
goons. They were followed by Major-Generals Moultrie 
and Gist, by a long cavalcade of officers and citizens, by 
the governor's council, and by another body of cavahy. 
It was a glad day for the city. Its long-banished citizens 
were restored — the brave hearts that refused to suc- 
cumb, or to despair — preferring to make sacrifice of 
property and hope itself, for the maintenance of princi- 
ple. Fond and touching was the welcome they received. 
The doors were thrown wide for their reception, while 
balconies and windows, crowded with joyous faces, looked 
the delight which was throbbing in every heart. Mute, 
for a while, was the voice of pleasure, in the eagerness 
of curiosity, and the novelty of those emotions which 
were yet to find a voice. The feeling, at first, could ex- 
press itself in tears alone. Aged women might be seen 
upon their knees, thankful but dumb, entreating in their 
hearts for the blessings of that Benign Father, to whom 
they felt how deep was their debt of gratitude. But 
when the procession had reached the centre of the city 



340 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. 

— when every eye had feasted upon the hitherto unknown 
face of that brave and prudent commander to whose 
firmness and policy the country was so great a debtor — 
when they had recalled all the well-known features of 
their own gallant and faithful sons — and the heart could 
receive nothing more, and needed relief from its own 
deep overflow — then rose from earth to heaven the fer- 
vent cry of delight and gratitude. Then gratitude found 
its voice, and joy its shout of exultation. Voices rose 
wild in gratulation and applause ; and fervently did the 
soul of prayer declare itself in blessings and benedictions. 
" God bless you all !" was the cry from thousands. " God 
bless you, brave men — and welcome! welcome! all, to 
your homes and to ours !" 

The work upon which Greene had been sent to the 
south was thus accomplished. The war was at an end. 
He had found the country covered with its foes, and in 
two years they had disappeared from its face. He had 
found them fortified in numerous posts of strength, from 
all of which they had been expelled. The two Caroli- 
nas and Georgia were once more restored to their origi- 
nal possessors ; and all these results had been obtained 
in the face of every disadvantage. With inferior troops, 
inferior appliances and implements, without money, with- 
out clothes for his troops, and frequently without provis- 
ions and ammunition, we find him steadily waging the 
conflict — evading the foe whom he could not confidently 
meet, but ever hanging about his path, watchful to take 
advantage of all his mistakes, and to dart upon his mo- 
ments of unwariness and inaction. And the consequen- 
ces had not been partial. The recovery of the country 
was complete, and the negotiations were already in prog- 
ress which promised that the peace of the states should 
be followed by their independence. 

But Greene's troubles were not yet over. The ab- 



CONFLICTS OF AUTHORITY. 341 

sence of the enemy brought no peace to his threshold. 
His cares were destined to continue to the end of his 
life, to harass his mind to the last, and so to embitter his 
days as in all probability to shorten their duration, and 
give force to the disease by which he prematurely per- 
ished. He still held command in South Carolina, and 
had the misfortune to be embroiled in a struggle between 
the civil authorities and the army. Hitherto, his prog- 
ress, directly beneath the eye of John Rutledge, had re- 
ceived the sanction of that noble patriot, and of his suc- 
cessor, in the chair of state. The legislature, also, them- 
selves mostly sensible of his great services, the purity of 
his heart, and the integrity of his character, had shown 
him, as we have seen, that they could do justice to his 
merits. In their proceedings they justly represented the 
sentiments of the people. But, with the departure of 
the British, the- support and presence of an army became 
equally unnecessary and irksome to the civil authorities. 
We have seen, already, with what difficulty and constant 
struggle, Greene succeeded in procuring food for his 
troops after the legislature had determined that this pro- 
vision should be made only through their own agents. 
The difficulty naturally increased with the absence of 
that foreign enemy in whose presence alone that of a de- 
fensive army found the popular sanction. Frequent 
bickerings ensued between the conflicting authorities of 
the state and the army. Questions of paramount au- 
thority continued to arise between the one, insisting upon 
its independence, and the other, claiming to represent a 
central power to which all were required to submit. 
Grreene took strong ground upon this subject, and in 
behalf of the latter, which, perhaps, would not have 
been taken but for the fact that the domestic authority 
was not yet so thoroughly restored as to place its assump- 
tions beyond dispute. The confederacy had been formed 
29* 



342 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. 

in respect to the war — to the pressing exigency arising 
from foreign invasion — and the rights of the central 
government, in the season of returning peace, were yet 
to be the subject of new discussions and new leagues. 
But, with his army not yet disbanded, with the country 
still infested with outlawed bands that defied the civil 
arm, and with the foreign enemy not yet withdrawn from 
the coast, the American general naturally demeaned him- 
self as if the war was still in progress. This he might 
reasonably assume, as no treaty of peace had yet been 
ratified. He, accordingly, engaged in the discussion 
with the state authorities, on subjects over which they 
claimed exclusive control, and mortally offended some 
of the officers of the state government, the executive 
among them, by this alleged interference. The pay- 
ment of the state contribution — the treatment of the lo- 
ries — subjects which seemed to be at once popular and 
domestic — were among those vexing questions, in the 
discussion of which it was Greene's misfortune to give 
offence to the people he had so lately served with so 
much zeal and success. It is not necessary that we 
should take part in this discussion, nor is it necessary 
that we should inquire in how far he was right in de- 
siring to increase the strength of the central establish- 
ment at the expense of the individual states. 

The army, meanwhile, continued to suffer in conse- 
quence of this difficulty between the civil authorities 
and representatives of Congress and the state. Con- 
gress, the creature of the states, had no means of sup- 
porting the troops unless by the state subsidies. The 
states withheld their subsidies from the support of an 
army for which they no longer had any use. South 
Carolina claimed to have already contributed a far 
greater amount than her quota. Indeed, she had sup- 
ported the army during the last three years of the war 



SUFFERINGS OP THE ARMY. 343 

in the south, almost exclusively, and at the close of the 
war was the largest creditor state in the Union. With 
this fact before them, a large party in the state opposed 
resolutely every appropriation v^^hich could have sup- 
plied the wants and met the necessities of the soldiery. 
Greene's efforts to obtain the necessary supplies were 
only construed into an offensive effort at dictation, and 
was denounced as an arrogant presumption. We need 
not pursue this subject, or go into the numerous petty 
and vexatious details which might display the mutual 
errors and mistakes of the conflicting parties. But a 
single instance of collision between the civil authorities 
and the army occurred, and in this instance the governor 
of the state receded from a position which he had unwa- 
rily taken. Greene behaved with equal moderation and 
firmness, and no evil consequences ensued. 

The long and painful history which followed upon the 
individual attempts of the American general to sustain 
the army on his own credit, is one that must be greatly 
condensed for this narrative. In the failure of the Con- 
gress and of the state to provide for his troops, it was 
attempted to supply the deficiency by contract. The 
transaction was one which was naturally considered ex- 
ceedingly hazardous, since it was very doubtful in what 
quarter the contracting party could finally look for pay- 
ment. The only offer was made by a person named 
Banks, and after an interval of nearly three months, in the 
absence of all other proposals, his were accepted. But 
Banks seems to have been a needy man, and was already 
much involved. He was just such an adventurer as 
such times were calculated to produce. His creditors, 
becoming apprehenrsive at what he had done, as endan- 
gering their securities, threatened to foreclose the mort- 
gage which they held upon his property, and thus de- 
prive him of the credit upon which, alone, could he be 



344 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. 

able to meet his contracts. In this predicament, Banks 
shrunk from the responsibilities he had undertaken ; the 
army was again neglected — its patience was exhausted 
— and its discontents soon rose to such a height, that, ap- 
prehensive of a mutiny among the most insubordinate, 
Greene was compelled to call out a select body, drawn 
from such troops as he supposed faithful, in order to 
overawe the residue. His detachment was actually put 
under arms, with cannon loaded and matches lighted, 
so near was the anticipated trial of his strength and firm- 
ness. In this exigency, with the evil still at work, and 
the danger still present and threatening, Greene was per- 
suaded that his personal security would suffice to extri- 
cate Banks from the immediate danger of his creditors, 
and enable him to fulfil his contract for supplying the 
army. There seemed to be no other alternative by 
which to avoid a crisis, and Greene unhesitatingly 
pledged himself as the security for Banks. We need 
not describe the details. The result was that Banks be- 
came a bankrupt, and the whole burden of his indebted- 
ness fell on the American general. But this information 
reached him only after the army was dissolved. That 
event followed upon the arrival of the long-expected 
news of peace. This intelligence reached Charleston 
on the 16th of April', 1783 ; and was received by the 
southern army, stationed on James' island, with as much 
joy and exultation as could well be shown by soldiers, 
whose only food at the time consisted of meat, without 
the accompaniment of a single breadstuff. The troops 
were soon furloughed to their respective states, the last 
act of their commander, in connexion with them, con- 
sisting in an earnest appeal to the governor of the states 
within his command, entreating their attention and justice 
to the brave fellows who had so long been suffering in 
the common cause. The close of August found Greene, 



GREENE LEAVES THE ARMY. S45 

himself, on his way homeward, respited, after a seven 
years' apprenticeship to war, to the enjoyment of the 
sweets of home and its endearing relations. His journey 
was taken by land, a journey of many fatigues, and at 
the worst season of the year. But he had too frequently 
traversed the same weary path in the prosecution of 
duty — should he feel its privations now when the prom- 
ised end before him was repose and happiness 1 His 
route was cheered by the congratulations of the authori- 
ties and of the people in all the states through which he 
travelled, all of whom vied in the desire to acknowledge 
his great service to the country. Congress was in session 
at Princeton, and thither he iiepaired to surrender up his 
trusts in person. To that body he made the simple re- 
quest that he should be permitted to return to Rhode 
Island — " that it was now going on nine years since he 
had had an opportunity to visit his family and friends, or 
pay the least attention to his private fortune." This re- 
quest was answered by a compliment. A committee was 
appointed " to report a suitable expression of the appro- 
bation of Congress," and the result was a resolution — 
" That two pieces of field ordnance taken from the Brit- 
ish army at the Cowpens, Augusta, or Eutaw, be present- 
ed by the commander-in-chief of the armies of the United 
States to Major-General Greene, as a public testimonial 
of the wisdom, fortitude, and military skill, which distin- 
guished his command in the southern department, and 
of the eminent services, which, amidst complicated diffi- 
culties and dangers, and against an enemy greatly superior 
in numbers, he has successfully performed for his coun- 
try : — and that a memorandum be engraved on the said 
pieces of ordnance expressive of the substance of this 
resolution." 

A farther resolve gave him the required permission to 
visit Rhode Island, for which the consent of the com- 



346 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GEEENE. 

mander-in-chief had already been obtained. Washing- 
ton, on this occasion, met with Greene for the last time. 
Perhaps, there was no general of the American army 
whose particular genius so much resembled that of 
"Washington as the commander of the southern army. 
It is certain that he modeled himself after the former, 
whom he had chosen for his study, and whom he ever re- 
garded with the profoundest admiration and respect. It 
was among the subjects which vexed the enemies of 
Washington that he had singled out Greene as the favor- 
ite general, upon whose counsels he always most pre- 
ferred to rely. 

It was while at Philadelphia, that Greene first heard 
of the failure of Banks, the contractor for the army, for 
whom he had unwisely become security. The full force" 
of the blow was scarcely felt by him at this moment. 
There was still some reason to believe that the affairs 
of Banks were not wholly desperate, and though his con- 
duct was in the last degree suspicious, he having with- 
drawn from the hands of a third person the bills which 
had been pledged for Greene's indemnity, the sanguine 
temperament of the latter refused to acknowledge the 
full extent of the evil which he had every cause to fear. 
At this moment, too, when released, for the first time for 
many years, from the heavy and various duties of a sta- 
tion full of the most exciting and vital responsibilities — 
free from a load of care — and about to revisit the scenes 
of his youth and early manhood, and take to his embraces 
the precious children whom, for so long a season, he had 
not been permitted to see : — his mind naturally refused 
to burden itself with apprehensions which might lessen 
the enjoyments which his affections and his hopes now 
promised him. Discarding all his doubts, yielding him- 
self only to hope, he hurried away to Rhode Island, 
cheered on his route by the same demonstrations of public 



GREENE RETURNS TO CAROLINA. 347 

approbation which had awaited him on his journey from 
the south. His arrival in Rhode Island, was something 
of a triumph. The voice of his native state declared its 
approval of his conduct by the warmest testimonies, and 
his home, under the earnest welcome of old friends and 
neighbors, seemed, for a time, to have realized all his 
antici23ations. Here, honored by all, beloved by many — 
with an ample circle of friends and associates — with a 
precious homestead full of dear objects of equal interest 
and affection — with leisure for books and thought, and 
with just that degree of occupation in the cultivation of 
farm and garden, in which the man of taste combines 
equally recreation and employment — nothing was want- 
ing to the happiness of Greene but escape from his cruel 
pecuniary entanglements. These haunted him in the sa- 
cred retreats of home, and embittered all its pleasures. 
His residence in Rhode Island was for a time only. His 
resolution had been taken to remove to the south, where 
he might enjoy with more profit to his interest, the es- 
tates which the liberality of Georgia and the Carolinas 
had enabled him to procure. In the month of June, 1784, 
he returned to South Carolina to complete his prepara- 
tions for the final removal of his family. But his evil 
destiny pursued him. The cloud which hung about his 
fortunes, with the feeling it produced, may be gathered 
from a letter to one of his brothers, written from Charles- 
ton. ** My heart is too full," he writes, " and my situ- 
ation too distressing, to write much. . . . You may re- 
member, I told you last winter of some heavy embarrass- 
ments, which hung over me from becoming security for 
B»nks, Hunter, & Co. They being public contractors, 
and the feeding of the army depending upon supporting 
their credit, I was obliged to guaranty sundry of their 
debts. But that I might be secure, they engaged that 
all the contract money should go to the discharge of my 



348 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. 

guaranty bonds. This they have found means to avoid ; 
their affairs have grown desperate, and I am and shall be 
involved in heavy and unavoidable losses. ... It v/ill 
oblige me to sell a considerable part of my estate. My 
situation is truly afflicting ! To be reduced from inde- 
pendence to want, and from the power of obliging my 
friends, to a situation claiming their aid. . . . My heart 
faints within me when I think of my family. I have only 
one consolation — it is not the fruits of extravagance." 

Banks, the miserable insolvent dared not encounter 
the man he had ruined. He fled from Charleston the 
moment he heard of G-reene's arrival in that city. Be- 
lieving that he still possessed the means of indemnity, 
Greene resolved to pursue him, and compel restoration. 
Mounting his horse, though at the most sickly season of 
the year, taking with him a single servant, and provided 
only with his pistols and a change of garments in his 
saddle-bags, he at once set forth in pursuit. His route 
was taken over the same region which he had formerly 
traversed at the head of an army. At every step for- 
ward some recollection of mingled pain and pleasure, 
started up before him. What had been his situation 
then 1 One of peril surely, of many privations, but none 
of such humiliating involvements as now vexed his heart, 
and drove peace and quiet from his mind. If he was 
then, the soldier of fortune only, having nothing but his 
sword, he was still the soldier of freedom whose only 
cares were such honorable ones as belong to his country. 
But with peace, he had been cheered with a promise of 
independence for himself, and plenty for his children, 
vouchsafed him only, as it would seem, to mortify awid 
mock. His feelings and fears were a terrible goad to 
his endeavors. Under the burning sun of that season 
and region, he pressed his pursuit ; and in a chase of 400 
miles he at length overtook the wretched bankrupt. But 



Greene's distresses. 349 

Banks had been already overtaken by a more fatal, if less 
angry creditor. Greene found him dying, the victim to a 
malignant fever which had seized upon him even be- 
fore he fled from Charleston. The excitement of fear — 
the intense desire to escape from his pursuer — had sus- 
tained him on this long and painful route ; and believing 
himself secure from the man he had wronged, he laid 
himself down to die. He does not seem to have fled 
with any spoils. His flight appears to have been prompt- 
ed only by an earnest anxiety to escape the eyes of his 
creditor. His conscience had been the goad to the fugi- 
tive ; and Greene gained nothing from the pursuit but 
a confirmation of all his fears. He had but to retrace 
the path in disappointment which he had lately trod in 
eagei-ness and hope. He writes — '' My distresses are 
sufficient already to sink me under water. A little more, 
and I am gone." From this sentence his mental agony 
may be inferred. That one who had borne so many 
vicissitudes, and had passed so manfully through such a 
career of peril, defeat, and disappointments, should have 
expressed himself in language so desponding, is sufficient 
to understand his situation, and the extremity of his ap- 
prehensions. These were mostly realized. He was 
compelled, at a time of peculiar pressure in the moneyed 
condition of the country, to sell the lands which he had 
bought in Carolina, at an enormous sacrifice. His slaves 
were removed to his estate in Georgia. To this estate — 
a beautiful place called Mulberry Gi'ove, on the Savan- 
nah, which had been ji resented him by the state of Geor- 
gia — he at length retirec^in the spring of 1785. A 
memorial to Congress which was presented in August, 
of this year, giving a simple history of his relations with 
Banks, and the losses sustained by him, amply showed 
that these losses had been sustained entirely for the coun- 
try, and were unavoidable from his situation. His state- 
30 



350 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. 

ments, made when all the facts were fresh in the public 
mind, proved him to be equally patriotic and unfortunate, 
and, without preferring a claim to the immediate inter- 
ference of Congress, left it to their sense of right to de- 
termine, whether the losses incurred in their cause, should 
not be met by their justice and liberality. This was his 
last official communication to his goverament. It pre- 
sents the spectacle, at once noble and painful, of a man 
who has faithfully served his country, modestly prefer- 
ring a claim, which, however humbled by misfortune, he 
yet disdains to solicit. 



FURTHER ANNOYANCES. 351 



CHAPTER XXV. 

His Removal to Georgia. — Challenged by Captain Gunn. — He declines 
the Challenge. — The Extent, Prospect, Peace and Beauty of his Do- 
mains. — His Sickness and Death. — Public Sorrow and Honors on this 
Event. — His Character. — Conclusion. 

Greene's annoyances from the failure of Banks, con- 
tinued to the end of his life. But these were not all. 
Scarcely had he reached his new abode in Georgia, when 
a personal difficulty assailed him which he had no reason 
to anticipate. He was waited on by Colonel Jackson, 
as the friend of Captain Gunn, who demanded redress 
for a supposed injury done to himself by Greene, while 
the latter was in command of the southern army. The 
offence arose from a habit which but too much prevailed 
among the dragoons, of seizing and keeping the horses 
of the public or of their own troopers. By the constitution 
of the corps each officer was required to provide his 
own horse, and an allowance was made him, in money, 
to enable him to do so. But, as the government finally 
failed altogether in making payment to the troops, the 
officers of cavalry, when they lost their own horses, did 
not scruple to dismount their troopers at pleasure, or ap- 
propriated such horses as were procured for the public 
service. Abuses still more gross had resulted from this 
license, and there were very few officers who did not 
keep from one to three horses. Captain Gunn, whose 
challenge to the field of personal combat, awaited Greene 
on his arrival in Georgia, had improved upon the system. 



352 LIFE OP NATItANAEL GREENE. 

He had exchanged a public horse with a brother officer, 
for which he had received two other horses and a slave. 
Greene brought him to trial for this offence, and he was 
compelled to make restitution for the horser His present 
demand was based upon Greene's proceedings in the 
case. 

Greene had been brought up in a school which did 
not tolerate duelling. Fortunately for his reputation as 
a man of personal courage, that was sufficiently well- 
known, to render necessary any resort to this means, for 
securing him in the respect of his neighbors. But he 
placed his refusal to meet with Gunn,on other grounds, 
and, after a clear and correct narrative of the whole af- 
fair, which he gave to Colonel Jackson, he concluded 
with declaring his resolution never to sanction the call 
of an inferior officer upon his superior, for supposed in- 
juries done in the course of command. Jackson, upon 
understanding the history of the case, withdrew from all 
connexion with it: but Gunn, not to be pacified, pro- 
cured another agent, in the person of Major Fishburne, 
who renewed for him his requisition upon Greene. The 
latter refused any answer, and was accordingly threat- 
ened by Gunn with a personal assault, for which he gave 
the challenger to understand he always went prepared. 
The parties do not seem to have sought or shunned each 
other. By good fortune they never met, and the affair 
was soon blown over. But Greene seems to have been 
troubled with some misgivings in relation to the course 
which he had pursued. His career as a soldier had 
grievously shaken the foundations of his quaker philoso- 
phy. He had become sensible in the army, of the ex- 
treme delicacy which belongs to a military reputation, 
and the exceeding readiness with which the youthful 
salamander learns to question the courage of the more 
sedate and scrupulous. He accordingly addressed to 



GREENE ON HIS PLANTATION. 353 

Washington a private letter on the subject, entreating 
his opinion. " If," said he, " I thought my honor or 
reputation would suffer in the opinion of the world, and 
more especially with the military gentlemen, I value life 
too little to hesitate a moment to answer the challenge," 

The reply of Washington affirmed the propriety of 
Greene's judgment in the matter. He says — "I give it 
as my decided opinion that your honor and reputation 
will stand not only perfectly acquitted for the non-ac- 
ceptance of his [Gunn's] challenge, but that your pru- 
dence and judgment would have been condemned for 
accepting it ; because, if a commanding officer is amena- 
ble to private calls for the discharge of his public duty, 
he has a dagger always at his heart ; and can turn neither 
to the right hand nor to the left without meeting its 
point. In a word, he is no longer a free agent in office, 
as there are few military decisions which are not offen- 
sive to one party or another." 

With this affair the annoyances of Greene appear to 
cease. His mind began to recover its tone; his spirits 
are more fresh and buoyant. He had brought on his 
family to Georgia in the latter part of 1785, and he in- 
dulges in all those dreams of happiness, in his own 
grounds, which the public man is apt to feel after a long 
and trying service, when he finds himself apart from the 
busy world, and respited from all its troubles. He has found 
a refuge. The seclusion of his plantation is no solitude. 
His wife and children are about him. He is solaced 
with their sympathies, and gladdened by their sight. He 
is honored by his neighbors, and finds their society 
grateful. His duties are no longer burdensome. His 
cares involve no humiliations. To cultivate his fields, to 
clear and beautify his grounds, to multiply the produce 
of the earth, and watch the growth of plants and flowers, 
which his own hands have set out, provides him with em- 
30* 



354 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. 

ployments at once grateful to his tastes, and in unison 
with his duties. It is evident, from his correspondence 
at this period, that Greene had shaken off his despon- 
dency, and was beginning to see the world once more 
through the rose-colored medium of youth. His escape 
from the drudgery of public service was like that of a 
boy released from school, and rioting with his comrades 
in the broad fields and in the blessed sunshine. His res- 
idence was a delightful one, and it awakened all his en- 
thusiasm. His letters at this period are full of his 
grounds and garden — his shrubbery — the pigeon-house 
and poultry-yard. He had fairly surrendered himself td 
the luxury of domestic life. What a contrast, its calm, 
its peaceful solitudes, its mild enjoyments, to the con- 
tinued turmoil, the fierce excitements, the anxieties and 
dangers of the camp. In April, a bit of a letter shows 
us how happily he lords it in his little empire. ** This is 
a busy time with us, and I can afford but a small portion 
of time to write. We are planting. We have got up- 
ward of sixty acres of corn planted, and expect to plant 
one hundred and thirty of rice. The garden is delight- 
ful. The fruit-trees and flowering shrubs form a pleas- 
ing variety. We have green peas almost fit to eat, and 
as fine lettuce as you ever saw. The mocking-birds 
surround us evening and morning. The weather is mild 
and the vegetable world progressing to perfection. We 
have in the same orchard, apples, pears, peaches, apri- 
cots, nectarines, plums of various kinds, figs, pomegran- 
ate, and oranges. And we have strawberries which 
measure three inches round." 

He has evidently forgotten the demands of Gunn, and 
the failure of Banks. He has delivered himself to the 
present, and to the lovely empire of fruit and flower 
with which he has environed himself in his retreat. But, 
it was Heaven's will that he should not behold the ripening 



DEATH. 355 

of the fruits which his hands had set to grow ; it was the 
will of the same Divine Providence that the wretched 
entanglement with Banks should still be the means, in 
some degree, for cutting him off in his felicity. His 
presence was required in Savannah, on Monday the 12th 
of June, 1786, for the purpose of settling with one of 
Bank's creditors. In returning from that city, he spent the 
day at the house of Mr. William Gibbons. Greene had 
become a rice-planter, and a natural curiosity to see 
the progress of Mr. Gibbons' crop, led them after break- 
fast into the rice-field together. The sun was intensely 
tiot, as it usually is during this month in the south, but 
Greene had too frequently endured his fiercest rays in 
Carolina, to apprehend danger from them now. The 
exposure was followed by a sharp pain in the head, which 
he felt while going home, and which continued through- 
out the ensuing day. But it occasioned no alarm, and 
was supposed to be nothing but an ordinary headache. 
On Thursday, however, the pain had increased greatly, 
over the eyes in particular, and the forehead appeared 
swollen and inflamed. In the evening, Major Pendleton, 
late his aid, paid him a visit, and was immediately im- 
pressed with the unfavorable change in his appearance. 
His apprehensions were excited, and early on Friday, a 
physician was summoned, who opened a vein, and ad- 
ministered some ordinary remedies. But the inflamma- 
tion continued to increase. Another physician was sum- 
moned ; more active medicines were employed ; more 
blood was taken, and blisters were put upon the temples. 
But the remedies were applied too late. The head had 
now swollen greatly — the unfavorable symptoms rapidly 
increased. Greene sank into a complete torpor from 
which he never recovered, and early on Monday, the 
19th of June, he expired. 

This mournful event, which cut off a citizen so dis- 



356 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. 

tinguished, in the midst of his hopes, in the prime of his 
manhood — for he was but forty-four years old when he 
died — was doubly felt as it was so totally unexpected. In 
the south the grief was at once deep and general. In the 
city of Savannah, the tidings produced a suspension of 
all business, public and private. The shops were shut, 
the public places were wrapped in mourning, and a 
spontaneous movement of the people, prepared for the 
mournful duty of committing the remains of one so hon- 
ored to their final resting-place. On the morning after 
his death, the body was brought down by water to the 
city. It was met on the banks of the river by the muni- 
cipality and the military of the place. The citizens turn- 
ed out as one man to follow in the melancholy procession 
to the grave, and in the absence of a regular minister of 
the gospel — for Savannah had not yet recovered from 
the devastating influences of war — the funeral service, 
according to the rites of the church of England, was read 
by the Honorable William Stevens. DejDOsited in an 
unknown vault, the coflin of Nathanael Greene was dis- 
tinguished only by a small metallic plate, which, in the 
usual manner, bears the name and age of the occupant. 
Upon this plate rests the only hope of identifying the re- 
mains of our subject, the search for which, partially 
urged, perhaps, has hitherto proved fruitless. 

Congress, immediately after his death, decreed a 
monument to his memory, to be erected at the seat of 
the federal government — nay — went a step farther and 
even composed the inscription — but to this day nothing 
has been done toward the work ; neither bust nor stone, 
nor trophied monument, has been raised to do justice to 
a memory which history can not fail to honor. 

We have no need to dwell upon the services which 
deserve this memorial. The public career of Nathanael 
Greene is on record. His virtues, talents, courage, and 



HIS CHARACTER. 357 

eminent prudence, will always secure for him the un- 
questioning gratitude of those who read thoughtfully and 
feelingly the history of our revolutionary struggles. 
Brave without rashness, prudent without fear, bold with- 
out temerity, temperate without phlegm, firm without 
obstinacy, strict without harshness, indulgent without 
partiality, thoughtful without tardiness, sanguine without 
impulse, and endowed with a constancy that never lost 
sight of its object in its incidents, — Greene presented us 
one of the happiest specimens of a mind well balanced, 
a heart matured, and a judgment ripe for all the exigen- 
cies that distinguished his career. 

His conduct during the progress of the struggle was 
frequently the subject of cavil and complaint. Slander 
and defamation strove to fasten upon his skirts ; but, like 
his great exemplar, Washington, he shook off the reptile 
as easily as Paul, the viper, after his shipwreck on the bar- 
barous island of Melita. His reputation, freed wholly 
from stain, or imputation of offence, has been steadily 
rising to the first rank among the military men of the 
E-evolution. His talents, as a soldier, are supposed to 
resemble those of the commander-in-chief, and, of all our 
major-generals of the Revolution, he is universally ad- 
mitted to be the one who stands nearest to Washington. 



APPENDIX. 



SOUTHERN ARMY. 
A NARRATIVE OF THE CAMPAIGN OF 1780, 

BY COLONEL OTHO HOLLAND WILLIAMS, ADJUTANT-GENERAL. 

The city of Charleston, South Carolina, was invested by a British 
army, commanded by General Sir Henry Clinton, on the first day of 
April, 1780. Major-General Lincoln of the American army, who com- 
manded the garrison, made the best possible defence his situation and 
circumstances would admit of; but, finding his garrison inadequate, and 
the resources of the country cut oflf or exhausted, he applied to the 
commander-in-chief of the American army for a reinforcement. 

On the 16th day of April, 1780, the quotas of Maryland and Dela- 
ware troops, about fourteen hundred infantry, marched under the orders 
of Major-General the baron De Kalb, fi-om cantonments near Morris- 
town in New Jersey, for the head of the Chesapeake bay. They em- 
barked the 3d day of May, at the head of Elk river, and arrived at 
Petersburg in Virginia early in June. 

Here the unwelcome news of the surrender of Charleston (on the 
] 2th of May) was first communicated to the detachment, the principal 
object of whose destination was lost ; but the country was not yet con- 
quered ; and it was presumed that the countenance of a body of regular 
troops, however small, would contribute more than anything else to 
sustain the fortitude of the militia. Every exertion, therefore, was 
made in Virginia to expedite the march of the baron's detachment, 
which here received a small reinforcement of artillery. It proceeded 
with some celerity and in fine spirits as far as Wilcox's iron works, 
on Deep river, in the state of North Carolina ; but here, on the 6th day 
of July, the baron found himself under the necessity of halting for want 
of provisions. 

The state of North Carolina had made no provision for the troops 
of the Union ; she was solely occupied with her own militia, a great 
portion of which, being disaffected, were obliged to be dragooned into 
the service. All the baron's applications and remonstrances to the 



3G0 APPENDIX. 

executive were without effect; he was obliged to send small detach- 
ments, under discreet officers, to collect provisions from the inhabitants, 
who at that season of the year had but little to spare. Many of them 
were subsisting themselves upon the last of the preceding crop of 
grain, and the new, although it promised plenty, was not yet mature ; 
consequently some of the inhabitants must have suffered, notwithstand- 
ing the strict orders to the officers to impress only a proportion of what 
was found on the farms. In this dilemma the troops remained several 
days, but the resources failing in the vicinity of the camp, it became 
necessary to draw supplies from a greater distance, or to march to where 
there was greater plenty. The former was impracticable, as the means 
of transportation were not in the baron's power. He consequently de- 
termined on the latter, previously extending the excursions of his for- 
aging parties, with directions to form a small magazine at Cox's (or 
Wilcox's) mill, on Deep river, where the troops arrived on the — day 
of July, and encamped near Buffalo ford. 

Still, however, the supplies of grain were scarcely sufficient, even 
for the present subsistence of the troops ; and the only meat ration that 
could be procured was lean beef, daily driven out of the woods and the 
canebrakes, where the cattle had wintered themselves. Inaction, bad 
fare, and the difficulty of preserving discipline, when there is no appre- 
hension of danger, have often proved fatal to troops and ruined whole 
armies. But here, the activity of the officers, and the persevering pa- 
tience of the privates, preserved order, harmony, and even a passion for 
the service. 

The baron did not fail to represent his situation to Congress, and to 
repeat his remonstrances to the executive of the state of North Carolina. 
He had been flattered with a promise of a plentiful supply of provisions 
and a respectable reinforcement of the militia of North Carolina, which 
about that time took the field, under the command of Mr. Caswell, who 
was appointed a major-general. The supplies, however, did not arrive ; 
and the commandant of the militia, ambitious of signalizing himself, 
employed his men in detachments against small parties of disaffected 
inhabitants, who, to avoid being drafted into the service of their coun- 
try, retired among the swamps and other cover with which that country 
abounds. 

It was in vain that the baron required General Caswell to join his 
command ; and it was equally fruitless to expect much longer to find 
subsistence for his soldiers in a country where marauding parties of 
militia swept all before them. The baron therefore hesitated whether 
he had better march to join the militia, in hopes to find that Caswell's 
complaints of a want of provisions for himself were fictitious, or to move 
up the country and gain the fertile banks of the Yadkin river. But, 
before any resolution was taken, the approach of Major-General Gates 
was announced, hy the arrival of his aid-de-camp. Major Armstrong, 
who was to have acted as deputy adjutant-general, but was prevented 
by sickness. 



SOUTHERN ARMY CAMPAIGN OF 1780. 3G1 

General Gates, who had so fortunately terminated the career of Gen- 
eral Bui-goyne in the north, was appointed to command the southern 
army immediately after the reduction of Charleston. His arrival, on 
the 25th of July, was a relief to De Kalb, who condescendingly took 
command of the Maryland division, which included the regiment of 
Delaware. Besides these two corps, the army consisted only of a small 
legionary corps, which formed a junction with them a few days before, 
under the command of Colonel Armand, being about sixty cavalry and 
as many infantry ; and Lieutenant-Colonel Carrington's detachment of 
three companies of artillery, which had joined in Virginia. 

General Gates was received with respectful ceremony. The baron 
ordered a continental salute from the little park of artillery, which was 
performed on the entrance into camp of his successor, who made his 
acknowledgments to the baron for his great politeness ; approved his 
standing orders ; and, as if actuated by a spirit of great activity and en- 
terprise, ordered the troops to hold themselves in I'eadiness to march at 
a momenfs luarning. The latter order was a matter of great aston- 
ishment to those who knew the real situation of the troops. But all 
difficulties were removed by the general's assurances that plentiful sup- 
plies of rum and rations were on the route, and would overtake them 
in a day or two — assurances that certainly were too fallacious, and that 
never were verified. All were in motion, however, early in the morn- 
ing of the 27th of July, and the general took the route over Buffalo 
ford, leading tov^^ard the enemy's advanced post on Lynch's creek, on 
the road to Camden, leaving two brass field-pieces and some baggage 
for want of horses. Colonel Williams, presuming on the friendship 
of the general, ventured to expostulate with him upon the seeming 
precipitate and inconsiderate step he v^^as taking. He represented that 
the country through which he was about to march was by nature bar- 
ren, abounding with sandy plains, intersected by swamps, and very 
thinly inhabited ; that the little provisions and forage which were pro- 
duced on the banks of its few small streams were exhausted, or taken 
away by the enemy, and by the hordes of banditti (called tories), which 
had retired from what they called the persecution of the rebels, and 
who would certainly distress his army, small as it was, by removing 
what little might remain out of his way. On the other hand, the colo- 
nel represented that a route about noi'thwest would cross the Pedee 
river somewhere about where it loses the name of Yadkin, and would 
lead to the little town of Salisbury, in the midst of a fertile country, 
and inhabited by a people zealous in the cause of America; that the 
most active and intelligent officers had contemplated this route with 
pleasure, not only as it promised a more plentiful supply of provisions, 
but because the sick, the women and children, and the wounded, in 
case of disaster, might have an asylum provided for them at Salisbury 
or Charlotte, where they would remain in security, because the militia 
of the counties of Mecklenburg and Roan, in which these villages 
stand, were stanch friends. The idea of estabUshing a laboratory for 
31 



362 APPENDIX. 

the repair of arms at a secure place, was also suggested as necessary : 
the security of convoys of stores from the northward, by the upper 
route ; the advantage of turning the left of the enemy's outposts, even 
by a circuitous route ; that of apf)roaching the most considerable of 
those posts (Camden) with the river Wateree on our right, and our 
friends on our backs ; and some other considerations — were suggested. 
And, that they might the more forcibly impress the general's mind, a 
short note was presented to him, concisely intimating the same opin- 
ion, and referring to the best-informed gentlemen under his command. 
General Gates said he would confer with the general officers when the 
troops should halt at noon. Whether any conference took place or 
not the writer does not know. After a short halt at noon, when the 
men were refreshed upon the sa-aps in their knapsacks, the march was 
resumed. The country exceeded the representation that had been 
made of it : scarcely had it emerged from a state of sterile nature ; the 
few rude attempts at improvement that were to be found were most of 
them abandoned by the owners and plundered by the neighbors. Ev- 
ery one, in this uncivilized part of the country, was flying from his 
home, and joining in parties, under adventurers, who pretended to 
yield them protection, until the British army should appear, which they 
seemed confidently to expect. The distresses of the soldiery daily in- 
creased. They were told that the banks of the Pedee river were ex- 
tremely fertile — and so, indeed, they were ; but the preceding crop of 
corn (the principal article of produce) was exhausted, and the new 
grain, although luxuriant and fine, was unfit for use. Many of the 
soldiery, urged by necessity, plucked the green ears and boiled them 
with the lean beef, which was collected in the woods, made for them- 
selves a repast, not unpalatable to be sure, but which was attended 
with painful effects. Green peaches also were substituted for bread, 
and had similar consequences. Sosne of the officers, aware of the risk 
of eating such vegetables, and in such a state, with poor fresh beef, and 
without salt, restrained themselves from taking anything but the beef 
itself, boiled or roasted. It occurred to some that the hair-powder, 
which remained in their bags, would thicken soup, and it was actually 
applied.* 

The troops, notwithstanding their disappointment in not being over- 
taken by a supply of rum and provisions, were again amused with 
promises, and gave early proofs of that patient submission, idflexible 
fortitude, and undeviating integrity, which they afterward more emi- 
nently displayed. 

On the 3d day of August the little army crossed Pedee river, in 

batteaux, at Mask's ferry, and were met on the southern bank by 

Lieutenant-Colonel Porterfield, an officer of merit, who, after the dis- 

• aster at Charleston, retired with a small detachment, and found )neans 

of subsisting himself and his men in Carolina until the present time. 

Colonel Marion, a gentleman of South Carolina, had been with the 
* Captain W. D. Beale, &c. 



SOUTHERN ARMY CAMPAIGN OF 1780. 363 

army a few days, attended by a very few followers, distinguished by 
small black leather caps and the wretchedness of their attire. Their 
number did not exceed twenty men and boys, some white, some black, 
and all mounted, but most of them miserably equipped ; their appear- 
ance was in fact so burlesque, that it was with much difficulty the 
diversion of the regular soldiery was restrained by the officers ; and 
the general himself was glad of an opportunity of detaching Colonel 
Marion, at his own instance, toward the interior of South Carolina, 
with orders to watch the motions of the enemy, and furnish intelli- 
gence. 

These trifling circumstances are remembered in these notes, to show 
from what contemptible beginnings a good capacity will rise to dis- 
tinction. The history of the war in South Carolina will recognise 
Marion as a brave partisan, if only the actions of the last two years' 
campaigns are recorded. 

The expectation, founded on assurances of finding a plentiful sup- 
ply of provisions at May's mill, induced the troops again to obey the 
order to march with cheerfulness ; but being again disappointed, fa- 
tigued, and almost famished, their patience began to forsake them. 
Their looks began to be vindictive, mutiny was ready to manifest it- 
self, and the most unhappy consequences were to be apprehended — 
when the regimental officers, by mixing among the men and remon- 
strating with them, appeased murmurs, for which unhappily there was 
too much cause. The officers, however, by appealing to their own 
empty canteens and mess-cases, satisfied the privates that all suiFered 
alike; and, exhorting them to exercise the same fortitude of which the 
officers gave them the example, assured them that the best means of 
extricating them from the present distress should be immediately adopt- 
ed ; that if the supplies expected by the general did not arrive very 
soon, detachments should go from each corps, in all directions, to pick 
up what grain might possibly be found in the country, and bring it to 
the mill. 

Fortunately, a small quantity of Indian corn was immediately brought 
into camp ; the mill was set to work, and as soon as a mess of meal was 
ground it was delivered to the men ; and so, in rotation, they were all 
served in the course of a few hours. More poor cattle were sacrificed, 
the camp-kettles were all engaged, the men were busy, but silent, until 
they had each taken his repast ; and then all was again content, cheer- 
fulness, and mirth. It was as astonishing as it was pleasing to observe 
the transition. 

The general and field officers were not the first served upon this oc- 
casion, nor were they generally the most satisfied ; but, as no one could 
point out the means of immediate redress, no remonstrances took place 
with the commanding officer. The commanding officer, however, was 
well informed of what was passing in the camp, and of the critical dis- 
position of the troops. Impressed by a sense of difficulties, and per- 
haps conceiving himself in some degree accountable to the army for 



364 APPENDIX. 

the steps he had taken, he told Colonel Williams, who acted as deputy 
adjutant-general to the southern army, that he had, in a measure, been 
forced to take the route he had done ; that General Caswell had evaded 
every order which had been sent to him, as well by the baron De Kalb 
as himself, to form a junction of the militia with the regular corps; 
that it appeared to him that Caswell's vanity was gratified by having 
a separate command ; that probably he contemplated some enterprise 
to distinguish himself and gratify his ambition, " which," said he, " I 
should not be sorry to see checked by a rap over the knuckles, if it 
were not that the militia would disperse, and leave this handful of 
brave men without even nominal assistance." He urged further that 
it was the more necessary to counteract the indiscretion of Caswell, 
and save him from disaster, as he then commanded the only corps of 
militia that were embodied in the Carolinas ; that the assurances he 
had received from the executive of North Carolina gave him cause lo 
suspect that supplies of provisions had been forwarded and used in pro- 
fusion in Caswell's camp, notwithstanding intimations had been com- 
municated to him that the militia were in as bad a situation in that 
respect as the regular corps ; that, moreover, having marched thus far 
directly toward the enemy, a retrograde or indirect movement would 
not only dispirit the troops, but intimidate the people of the country, 
many of whom had come in with their arms, or sent their submissions 
to the general — promising, upon his engagement to indemnify them 
for what had passed, to assemble themselves under their own leaders 
and follow the colors of the Union. The poverty of the country and 
the 'perfidy of the people were in vain opposed to these agreements, 
and in fact the troops had penetrated so far, as to make it even as haz- 
ardous to return or file oil for the upper country as to advance. 

Dangerous as deceptions had been, it was still thought expedient to 
flatter the expectation of the soldiery with an abundance of provisions 
so soon as a junction could be formed with the militia. Therefore, 
after collecting all the corn which was to be found in the neighborhood 
of May's mill, and huckstering all the meal that could be spared from 
our present necessities, the march was resumed toward Camden. 

On the 5th day of August, in the afternoon, General Gates received 
a letter, informing him that General Caswell meditated an attack upon 
a fortified post of the enemy on Lynch's creek, about fourteen miles 
from the militia encampment. More anxious than ever. General Gates 
urged on the march of the regulars. Whatever the men sutFered, and 
whatever they thought, the example of the officers, who shared with 
them every inconvenience, repressed the murmurs which were hourly 
expected to break forth. The next morning orders were issued for the 
army to march with the utmost expedition to join the militia, under the 
idea that it was the only expedient to gain a supply of provisions ; but 
another and more vexatious cause to General Gates Avas, a letter from 
General Caswell, advising him that he had every reason to apprehend 
an attack on his camp by the garrison from Lynch's creek (the very 



SOUTHERN ARMY CAMPAIGN OP 1780. 365 

garrison which he, the day before, had determined to assault, for there 
was no possibility of surprising troops so situated), and requesting Gen- 
eral Gates to reinforce him with all possible despatch. 

One of Caswell's letters began — " Sir, Gene7'al W , my aid- 

de-camipr The ostentation of this address weakened the little confi- 
dence which the general-in-chief mi;;ht have had in the major-general's 
capacity for command, and increased his desire to have all the forces 
under his immediate direction. Such evasions of orders, such pre- 
tences to enterprise, and such sudden signs of intimidation, in the mili- 
tia general, determined Gates to reach his camp in person that same 
day, although it was impracticable, without retreating the militia, for a 
junction to be formed until the next. The deputy adjutant-general 
had the honor of attending the general commandant to the headquar- 
ters of the commandant of the militia. The reception was gracious, 
and the general and his suite were regaled with wine and other novel- 
ties, exquisitely grateful and pleasingly exhilarating ; but a man must 
have been intoxicated, not to perceive the confusion which prevailed in 
the camp : tables, chairs, bedsteads, benches, and many other articles 
of heavy and cumbrous household stuff, were scattered before the tent 
doors in great disorder. 

It was understood that General Caswell had discovered, upon the 
last alarm, that, by the death of horses and breaking down of carriages, 
he was rendered unable to move, and was making an effort to divest 
himself then of his heavy baggage. (If, in these notes, a tenor, censo- 
rious of General Caswell's conduct, appears to the reader, the writer 
begs that it may not, as it ought not to be, imputed to any personal 
prejudice or malicious motive. He never had the honor of seeing the 
general until this time, and all that he had ever heard of him was ex- 
tremely favorable to his character as a gentleman and a patriot. A 
regard to facts, to which the writer thinks he may possibly hereafter be 
called to testify on oath, obliges him to state them faithfully as they 
occurred, or were communicated to him — preserving the memory of 
authorities, as well as incidents, in order to a correct statement of the 
circumstances about which he may be interrogated.) 

On the 17th of August, the wished-for junction took place at the 
cross roads, about fifteen miles east of the enemy's post on Lynch's 
creek. 

This event enlivened the countenances of all parties : the militia 
were relieved from their apprehensions of an attack, and the regulars, 
forgetting their fatigues, and disdaining to betray the least appearance 
of discontent, exulted in the confidence with which they inspired their 
new comrades ; a good understanding prevailed among the oflicers of 
all ranks, and General Caswell seemed satisfied with the honor of 
being the third in command. 

The baron De Kalb commanded the right wing of the army, com- 
posed of the regular troops, and General Caswell the left, of militia. 

After the junction, which happened about noon, the army marched 
31* 



366 APPENDIX. 

a few miles toward the enemy's post on Lynch's creek, and encamped 
in order. 

X The deputy atljutant-general, who had as much anxiety as if he had 
been personally responsible for the fate of the army, in order to observe 
what guards were established for the safety of the left wing, went with 
Lieutenant-Colonel Ford (officer of the day), at an unusual hour, to 
inspect the lines. The guards and sentinels of the right wing were, 
as usual, attentive, and hailed the visiting rounds with that alacrity 
and spirit which inspired a confidence of security in that quarter ; but 
in the left wing all was tranquil. The officers patrolled around the 
encampment without being hailed once ; and then rode into the lines, 
and among the tents, and even approached the marquees of some of 
the general and field officers — one of whom complained of being dis- 
turbed, and intimated that it was an unseasonable hour for gentlemen 
to call. The officers of the preceding day were sent for, and guards 
and patrols sent out to secure the encampment from surprise. 

The morning of the 8th of August dawned without revealing any 
appearance of an enemy. 

Under the judicious mask of offensive operations, the commanding 
officer of the post on Lynch's creek evacuated it and retired unmolested 
and at leisure to a much stronger position on Little Lynch's creek, 
within a day's march of Camden — which last was strongly fortified, 
and had a considerable garrison under the command of Lord Rawdon. 

The small posts which the enemy had advanced into the country 
were calculated to cover the parties which were sent in all directions 
to collect the forage and provisions that might be found on the waters 
of Lynch's creclc and Black rivers ; and this j^usiness having been 
already ellccted, the posts were no longer an object to them. 

General Gales saw himself master of the field, but it was a barren 
one. The troops still subsisted upon precarious supplies of corn meal 
and lean beef, of which they often did not receive half a ration per 
day, and no possibility existed of doing better, without departing from 
the route which the general had all along pertinaciously persisted in. 
To have descended among the fertile fields of Black river, would have 
been leaving the garrison of Camden between the army and the ex- 
pected reinforcements from Virginia. Besides, the refugees of North 
Carolina repeated their assurances of joining in considerable numbers 
in a few days. 

On the other hand, the Waxhaw settlement offered the greatest 
prospect of a comfortable supply of provisions, but it could not be gained 
under two or three days' march ; it lay too much out of the way ; the 
movement would look like retreating from the enemy, and the swamp- 
ers, as the expected volunteers were called, would surely desert the 
cause. There was no deciding — there was no delaying : the army 
marched unconscious what step was next to be taken. General Gates, 
however, began to perceive the danger of approaching an enemy of 
whose numbers he had no certain intelligence, encumbered as he was 



• 



SOUTHERN ARMY CAMPAIGN OF 1780. 367 

with an enormous train of heavy baggage, a multitude of women, and 
not a few children. An effort was therefore formed under Major Dean, 
and a number of wagons were appointed to convey to Charlotte all the 
heavy baggage, and as many of the women as could be driven from 
the line ; many of the latter, however, preferred sharing every toil and 
every danger with the soldiery, to the security and provisions that were 
promised them. The army advanced, but, approaching the enemy's 
post on Little Lynch's creek, it was discovered by good intelligence to 
be situated on the south side of the water, on commanding ground ; 
that the way leading to it was over a causeway on the north side to a 
wooden bridge, which stood on very steep banks ; and that the creek 
lay in a deep, muddy channel, bounded on the north by an extensive 
swamp, and passable nowhere for several miles but in the face of the 
enemy's work. The enemy was not disposed to abandon these advan- 
tages, without feeling the pulse of the approaching army; and General 
Gates observed that, to attack him in front, " would be taking the bull 
by the horns." It was necessary, for once, to depart from the shortest 
route to the enemy's principal outpost, Camden. The army defiled by 
the right, and Colonel Hall, of Maryland, with a detachment of about 
three hundred men, covered the left flank until it was out of danger 
from surprise, and then formed the rear-guard. This manoeuvre, on 
the 11th of August, induced the garrison to retire with some precipi- 
tation to Camden, and about the same time the British garrison which 
had occupied Clermont (or Rugley's mills), on the north road, retired 
to the same place. 

Lord Rawdon, who commanded the advanced corps of the British 
army, wisely collected his whole force at Camden, which, besides being 
flanked by the river Waterec and Pinetree creek, was considerably 
strengthened by a number of redoubts. 

As his lordship's emissaries were in all parts of the country, he could 
not fail to be informed that General Gates was in his neighborhood 
with a brigade of rggular troops and two brigades of militia, besides 
some small corps of artillery and cavalry ; that Brigadier-General Ste- 
vens was on the same route with a brigade of Virginia militia ; that 
Colonel Marion below, and Colonel Sumter above Camden, were stim- 
ulating their countrymen to reassume their arms ; and that, in short, 
the whole country were ready to revolt from the allegiance which had 
been extorted from them but a few weeks before. He therefore per- 
mitted General Gates to march unmolested to Clermont (where the 
Americans encamped on the 13th), and employed his men in strength- 
ening his post for defence, until reinforrements might arrive from 
Charleston, where Lord Cornwallis was left in command, Sir Henry 
Clinton having returned to New York soon after the reduction of the 
former city. 

Brigadier-General Stevens arrived with his Virginians at Clermont 
on the 14th, and encamped with the rest of the army. On the same 
day (or the 15th) an inhabitant of Camden came, as if by accident, into 



368 APPENDIX. 

the American encampment, and was conducted to headquarters. He 
affected ignorance of the approach of the Americans, pretended very- 
great friendship for his countrymen the Marvlandcrs, and promised the 
general to be out again in a few days with all the information the gen- 
eral wished to obtain. The information which he then gave was the 
truth, but not all the truth, which events afterward revealed ; yet, so 
plausible was his manner, that General Gates dismissed him, with many 
promises if he v/ould faithfully observe his engagements. Suspicions 
arose in the breasts of some of the officers about headquarters that this 
man's errand was easily accomjjjishcd ; the credulity of the general was 
not arraigned, hut it was conceived that it would have been prudent to 
have detained the man for further acquaintance. 

Colonel Sumter, of the South-Carolina militia, had intenigence that 
an escort with clothing, ammunition, and other stores, for the troops at 
Camden, was on the road from Charleston, by way of M'Cord's ferry 
on the Congaree, and that it would necessarily pass the Wateree at a 
ferry about a mile from the town, under cover of a redoubt on the op- 
posite side of the river. This intelligence he communicated to the gen- 
eral, requesting a small reinforcement of infantry and two small pieces 
of artillery to join his volunteers, promising to intercept the convoy. 
The colonel's accurate knowledge of the geography of the countr}', and 
the qualities of the men who were his followers, favored the execution 
of this enterprise. The general ordered a detachment of one hundred 
regular infantry, and a party of artillery with two brass field-pieces, 
under Lieutenant-Colonel Woolford, to join Colonel Sumter, and act 
under his command. 

To attract the attention of the garrison in Camden, if they did not 
choose to retire — which seemed to be but too confidently expected — and 
to facilitate the execution of the Httle expedition under Sumter, all 
other objects seemed to be suspended. 

The only stores which were forwarded to the army by General Ste- 
vens were a few articles of West-India produce, the principal of which 
was molasses. No supply of provisions of any sort was collected more 
than to serve from day to day. The obscure route the army had 
marched actually kept their friends ignorant of their movements ; and 
the arrival of General Gates at Clermont was, when known, a subject 
of more surprise to the patriots than to the enemies of the country. It 
is probable, and in the opinion of many a matter of no doubt whatever, 
that if General Gates had taken a secure position with his army, and 
waited only a few days, abundance of provisions would have flowed 
into his camp; and that, hy the addition of volunteers from the Caro- 
linas, he would have acquired such a superiority over the British army, 
which did not much exceed four thousand men, that he would have 
found no difficulty in recovering the country as far as Charleston : but 
opinions are fruitless. On the 15th of ..August, 1780, General Gates 
issued the following : — 

Afteu Gknkuai, OiiDERs. — "The sick, the extra artillery stores, 



SOUTHERN ARMY CAMPAIGN OF 1780. 369 

the heavy baggage, and such quartermaster's stores as are not imme- 
diately wanted, to march this evening, under a guard, to Waxhaws. 

" To this order the general requests the brigadier-generals to see that 
those under their command pay the most exact and scrupulous obe- 
dience. 

<' Lieutenant-Colonel Edmonds, with the remaining guns of the park, 
will take post and march with the Virginia brigade, under General 
Stevens; he will direct, as any deficiency happens in the artillery 
affixed to the other brigades, to supply it immediately ; his military 
staff and a proportion of his officers, with forty of his men, are to attend 
him and await his orders. 

" The troops will be ready to march precisely at ten o'clock, in the 
following order, viz. : — 

" Colonel Armand's advance ; cavalry commanded by Colonel Ar- 
mand ; Colonel Porterfield's light infantry upon the right flank of Colo- 
nel Armand, in Indian file, two hundred yards from the road ; Major 
Armstrong's light infantry in the same order as Colonel Porterfield's, 
upon the left flank of the legion. 

" Advance guard of foot, composed of the advanced pickets, first 
brigade of Maryland, second brigade of Maryland, division of North 
Carolina, Virginia division ; rear-guard, volunteer cavalry, upon the 
flank of the baggage, equally divided. 

" In this order the troops will proceed on their march this night. 

'■ In case of an attack by the enemy's cavalry in front, the light in- 
fantry upon each flank will instantly move up, and give and continue 
the most galling fire upon the enemy's horse. This will enable Colo- 
nel Armand not only to support the shock of the enemy's charge, but 
finally to rout them ; the colonel will therefore consider the order to 
stand the attack of the enemy's cavalry, be their numbers what they 
may, as positive. 

" General Stevens will immediately order one captain, two Heuten- 
ants, one ensign, three sergeants, one drum, and sixty rank and file, to 
join Colonel Porterfield's infantry ; these are to be taken from the 
most experienced woodsmen, and men every way the fittest for the 
service. 

" General Caswell will likewise complete Major Armstrong's light 
infantry to their original number. These must be immediately marched 
to the advanced posts of the army. 

" The troops will observe the profoundest silence upon the march ; 
and any soldier who offers to fire without the command of his officer, 
must be instantly put to death. 

" When the ground will admit of it, and the near approach of the 
enemy renders it necessary, the army will (when ordered) march in 
columns. 

" The artillery at the head of their respective brigades, and the bag- 
gage in the rear. 

" The guard of the heavy baggage will be composed of the remain- 



370 APPENDIX. 

ing officers and soldiers of the artillery, one captain, two subalterns, 
four sergeants, one drum, and sixty rank and file ; and no person what- 
ever is to presume to send any other soldier upon that service. 

" All bat-men, waiters, &c., who are soldiers taken from the line, are 
forthwith to join their regiments, and act with their masters while they 
are upon duty. 

" The tents of the whole army are to be struck at tattoo." 

After writing this order, the general communicated it to the deputy 
adjutant-general, showing him, at the same time, a rough estimate of 
the forces under his command, making them upward of seven thou- 
sand. That this calculation was exaggerated the deputy adjutant-gen- 
eral could not but suspect, from his own observation. He therefore 
availed himself of the general's orders, to call all the general officers in 
the army to a council to be held in Rugley's barn — to call also upon the 
commanding officers of corps for a field return, in making which they 
were to be as exact as possible ; and, as he was not required to attend 
the council, he busied himself in collecting these returns and forming 
an abstract for the general's better information. This abstract was pre- 
sented to the general just as the council broke up, and immediately 
upon his coming out of the door. He cast his eyes upon the numbers 
of rank and file present fit for duty, which was exactly three thousand 
and Jifty-two. He said there were no less than thirteen general offi- 
cers in council ; and intimated something about the disproportion be- 
tween the numbers of officers and privates. It was replied, " Sir, the 
number of the latter is certainly much below the estimate formed this 
morning." — " But," said the general, " these are enough for our pur- 
pose." What that was, was not communicated to the deputy adjutant- 
general. The general only added, " There was no dissenting voice in 
the council, where the orders have just been read" — and then gave 
them to be published to the army. 

Although there had been no dissenting voice in the council, the or- 
ders were no sooner promulgated than they became the subject of ani- 
madversion. Even those who had been dumb in council, said that 
there had been no consultation ; that the orders were read to them, and 
all opinion seemed suppressed by the very positive and decisive terms 
in which they were expressed. Others could nol imagine how it could 
be conceived that an army, consisting of more than two thirds militia, 
and which had never been once exercised in arms together, could form 
columns, and perform other manoeuvres in the night, and in the face 
of an enemy. But, of all the officers. Colonel Armand took the greatest 
exception. He seemed to think the positive orders respecting himself 
implied a doubt of his courage ; declared that cavalry had never before 
been put in the front of a line of battle in the dark ; and that the dis- 
position, as it respected his corps, proceeded from resentment in the 
general, on account of a previous altercation between them about horses, 
which the general had ordered to be taken from the officers of the army 
to expedite the movement of the artillery through the wilderness. A 



SOUTHERN ARMY CAMPAIGN OF 1780. 371 

great deal was said upon the occasion ; but the time was short, and the 
officers and soldiers generally not knowing or believing, any more than 
the general, that any considerable body of tlie enemy were to be met 
with out of Camden, acquiesced with their usual cheerfulness, and were 
ready to march at the hour appointed. 

As there were no spirits yet arrived in camp, and as until lately it 
was unusual for troops to make a forced march, or prepare to meet an 
enemy, without some extraordinary allowance, it was unluckily con- 
ceived that molasses would, for once, be an acceptable substitute : ac- 
cordingly the hospital stores were broached, and one gill of molasses 
per man, and a full ration of corn-meal and meat, were issued to the 
army previous to their march, which commenced, according to orders, 
at about ten o'clock at night of the 15th. (But I must arrest the prog- 
ress of the narrative to apologize for introducing a remark seemingly so 
trivial. Nothing ought to be considered as trivial in an army which 
in any degree affects the health or spirits of the troops ; upon which 
often, more than upon numbers, the fate of battles depends. The 
troops of General Gates's army had frequently felt the bad consequences 
of eating bad provision ; but at this time, a hasty meal of quick-baked 
bread and fresh beef, with a dessert of molasses mixed with mush or 
dumplings, operated so cathartically as to disorder ve.y many of the 
men, who were breaking the ranks all night, and were certainly much 
debilitated before the action commenced in the morning.) 

It has been observed that the direct march of the American army 
toward Camden, and the prospect of considerable reinforcements of 
militia, had induced the commanding officer, Lord Rawdon, to collect 
there al! the forces under his direction ; and it is certain that the seem- 
ing confidence of the American general had inspired him with appre- 
hensions for his principal post. Lord Cornwallis, at Charleston, was 
constantly advised of the posture of affairs in the interior of the country ; 
and, confident that Lord Rawdon could not long resist the forces that 
might and probably would be opposed to him in a very short time, re- 
solved to march himself, with a considerable reinforcement, to Camden. 
He arrived there on the 14th, and had the discernment at once to per- 
ceive that delay would render that situation dangerous, even to his 
whole force — the disaflfection from his late assumed, arbitrary, and vin- 
dictive power, having become general through all the country above 
General Gates's line of march, as well as to the eastward of Santee 
and to the westward of Wateree rivers. He therefore took the resolu- 
tion of attacking the newly-constituted American army in their open, 
irregular encampment at Clermont. Both armies, ignorant of each 
other's intentions, moved about the same hour of the same night, and 
approaching each other, met about half way between their respective 
encampments at midnight. 

The first revelation of this new and unexpected scene was occa- 
sioned by a smart mutual salutation of small-arms between the ad- 
vanced guards. Some of the cavalry of Armand's legion were wounded, 



372- APPENDIX. 

retreated, and threw the whole corps into disorder — which, recoiling 
suddenly on the front of the column of infantry, disordered the first 
Maryland brigade, and occasioned a general consternation through the 
whole line of the army. The light infantry under Porterfield, however, 
executed their orders gallantly ; and the enemy, no less astonished than 
ourselves, seemed to acquiesce in a sudden suspension of hostilities. 
Some prisoners were taken on both sides. From one of these the dep- 
uty adjutant-general of the American army extorted information re- 
specting the situation and numbers of the enemy. He informed that 
Lord Cornwallis commanded in person about three thousand regular 
British troops, which were in line of march about five or six hundred 
yards in front. Order was soon restored in the corps of infantry in the 
American army, and the officers were employed in forming a frontline 
of battle, when the deputy adjutant-general communicated to General 
Gates the information which he had from the prisoner. The general's 
astonishment could not be concealed. He ordered the deputy adjutant- 
general to call another council of war. All the general officers imme- 
diately assembled in the rear of the line. The unwelcome news was 
communicated to them. General Gates said, " Gentlemen, what is best 
to be donel" All were mute for a few moments, when the gallant 
Stevens exclaimed, " Gentlemen, is it not too late nov) to do anything 
but fight?" No other advice was offered, and the general desired that 
the gentlemen would repair to their respective commands. 

The baron De Kalb's opinion may be inferred from the following 
fact. When the deputy adjutant-general went to call him to council, 
he first told him what had been discovered. " Well," said the baron, 
"and has the general given you orders to retreat the armyl" The 
baron, however, did not oppose the suggestion of General Stevens, and 
every measure that ensued was preparatory for action. 

liieutenant-Colonel Porterfield, in whose bravery and JQdicious con- 
duct great dependence was placed, received in the first rencontre a mor- 
tal wound (as it long afterward proved), and was obliged to retire. 
His infantry bravely kept the ground in front, and the American army 
was formed in the following order : the Maryland division, including 
the Delawares, on the right ; the North-Carolina militia in the centre ; 
and the Virginia militia on the left. It happened that each flank was 
covered by a marsh, so near as to admit the removing of the first Ma- 
ryland brigade to form a second line, about two hundred yards in the 
rear of the first. The artillery was removed from the centre of the 
brigades, and placed in the centre of the front line ; and the North- 
Carolina militia (light infantry), under Major Armstrong, which had 
retreated at the first rQ|icontre, was ordered to cover a small interval 
between the left wing and the swampy grounds on that quarter. 

Frequent skirmishes happened during the night between the ad- 
vanced parties, which served to discover the relative situations of the 
two armies, and as a prelude to what was to take place in the morning. 

At dawn of day (on the morning of the 16th of August) the enemy 



SOUTHERN ARMY-— CAMPAIGN OF 1780. 373 

appeared in front, advancing in column. Captain Singleton, who com- 
manded some pieces of artillery, observed to Colonel Williams that he 
plainly perceived the ground of the British uniform at about two hun- 
dred yards in front. The deputy adjutant-general immediately ordered 
Captain Singleton to open his battery, and then rode to the general, 
who was in the rear of the second line, and informed him of the cause 
of the firing which he heard. He also observed to the general that the 
enemy seemed to be displaying their column by the right ; the nature 
of the ground favored this conjecture, for yet nothing was clear. 

The general seemed disposed to wait events ; he gave no orders. 
The deputy adjutant-general observed that if the enemy, in the act of 
displaying, were briskly attacked by General Stevens's brigade, which 
was already in line of battle, the effect might be fortunate, and first 
impressions were important. " Sir," said the general, " that's right — 
let it be done." This was the last order that the deputy adjutant-gen- 
eral received. He hastened to General Stevens, who instantly advanced 
with his brigade, apparently in fine spirits. The right wing of the en- 
emy was soon discovered in line ; it was too late to attack them dis- 
playing ; nevertheless, the business of the day could no longer be de- 
ferred. The deputy adjutant-general requested General Stevens to let 
him have forty or fifty privates, volunteers, who would run forward of 
the brigade and commence the attack. They were led forward within 
forty or fifty yards of the enemy, and ordered to take trees and keep 
up as brisk a fire as possible. The desired efTect of this expedient — to 
extort the enemy's fire at some distance, in order to the rendering it 
less terrible to the militia — was not gained. General Stevens, observ- 
ing the enemy to rush on, put his men in mind of their bayonets; but 
the impetuosity with which they advanced, firing and huzzaing, threw 
the whole body of the militia into such a panic, that they generally 
threw down their loaded arms and fled in the utmost consternation! 
The unworthy example of the Virginians was almost instantly followed 
by the North-Carolinians ; only a small part of the brigade, commanded 
by Brigadier-General Gregory, made a short pause. A part of Dixon's 
regiment, of that brigade, next in the line to the second Maryland 
brigade, fired two or three rounds of cartridge. But a great majority 
of the militia (at least two thirds of the army) fled without firing a shot. 
The writer avers it of his own knowledge, having seen and observed 
every part of the army, from left to right, during the action. He who 
has never seen the effect of a panic upon a multitude, can have but an 
imperfect idea of such a thing. 'J'he best disciplined troops have been 
enervated and made cowards by it. Armies have been routed by it, 
even where no enemy appeared to furnish an excuse. Like electricity, 
it operates instantaneously — hke sympathy, it is irresistible where it 
touches. 

But, in the present instance, its action was not universal. The reg- 
ular troops, who had the keen edge of sensibility rubbed off by strict 
discipline and hard service, saw the confusion with but little emotion. 
32 



374 APPENDIX. 

They engaged seriously in the affah* ; and, notwithstanding some irreg- 
ularity, which was created by the militia breaking pell-nicll through 
the second line, order was restored there time enough to give the enemy 
a severe check, which abated the fury of their assault, and obliged them 
to assume a more deliberate manner of acting. The second Maryland 
brigade, including the battalion of Delaware?, on the right, were en- 
gaged with the enemy's left, which they opposed with very great firm- 
ness. They even advanced upon them, and had taken a number of 
prisoners, when their companions of the first brigade (which formed 
the second line), being greatly outflanked, and charged by superior 
numbers, were obliged to give ground. At this critical moment the 
regimental officers of the latter brigade, reluctant to leave the field 
without orders, inquired for their commanding officer (Brigadier-Gen- 
eral Smallwood), who, however, was not to be found ; notwithstanding, 
Colonel Gunby, Major Anderson, and a number of other brave offi- 
cers, assisted by the deput}'^ adjutant-general, and Major Jones, one of 
Smallwood's aids, rallied the brigade, and renewed the contest. Again 
they were obliged to give way, and were again rallied ; the second 
brigade were still warmly engaged ; the distance between the two brig- 
ades did not exceed two hundred yards, their opposite flanks being 
nearly upon a line perpendicular to their front. At this eventful junc- 
ture the deputy adjutant-general, anxious that the communication be- 
tween them should be preserved, and wishing that, in the almost cer- 
tain event of a retreat, some order might be sustained by them, hastened 
from the first to the second brigade, which he found precisely in the 
same circumstances. He called upon his own regiment (the sixth 
Maryland) not to fly, and was answered by the lieutenant-colonel. Ford, 
who said — " They have done all that can be expected of them ; we are 
outnumbered and outflanked. See, the enemy charge with bayonets." 
The enemy, having collected their corps, and directing their whole force 
against these two devoted brigades, a tremendous fire of musketry was 
for some time kept up on both sides, with equal perseverance and ob- 
stinacy, until Lord Cornwalhs, perceiving that there was no cavalry 
opposed to him, pushed forward his dragoons — and his infantry charg- 
ing at the same moment with fixed bayonets, put an end to the con- 
test. His victory was complete. All the artillery and a very great 
number of prisoners fell into his hands; many fine fellows lay on the 
field, and the rout of the remainder was entire. Not even a company 
retired in any order ; every one escaped as he could. 

If; in this afiaii-, the militia fled too soon, the regulars may be thought 
almost as blamable for remaining too long on the field, especially after 
all hope of victory must have been despaired of. Let the command- 
ants of the brigades answer for themselves. Allow the same privilege 
to the officers of the corps couiprising those brigades, and they will say 
that they never received orders to retreat, nor any order from any gen- 
eral officer, from the commencement of the action until it became des- 
perate. The brave major-general, the baron De Kalb, fought on foot, 



SOUTHERN ARMY CAMPAIGN OF 1780, 375 

with the second brigade, and fell, mortally wounded, into the hands of 
the enemy, who stripped him eveii of his shirt — a fate which probably 
was avoided by other generals only by an opportune retreat. 

The torrent of unarmed militia bore away with it Generals Gates, 
Caswell, and a number of others, who soon saw that all was lost. 
General Gates at first conceived a hope that he might rally at Cler- 
mont a sufficient number to cover the retreat of the regulars ; but, the 
farther they fled, the more they were dispersed, and the generals soon 
found themselves abandoned by all but their aids. 

Lieutenant-Colonel Senf, who had been on the expedition with Colo- 
nel Sumter, returned, and overtaking General Gates, informed him of 
their complete success ; that the enemy's redoubt on the Wateree, op- 
posite to Camden, was first reduced, and the convoy of stores, &c., 
from Charleston, was decoyed and became a prize to the American party 
almost without resistance ; that upward of one hundred prisoners and 
forty loaded wagons were in the hands of the party, who had sustained 
very little loss. But the general could avail himself nothing of this 
trifling advantage. The. detachment under Sumter was on the oppo- 
site side of the Wateree, marching oflT as speedily as might be, to secure 
their booty, for the course of the firing in the morning indicated unfa- 
vorable news from the army. 

The militia, the general saw, were in air ; and the regulars, he feared, 
were no more. The dreadful thunder of artillery and musketry had 
ceased, and none of his friends appeared. There was no existing corps 
with which the victorious detachment might unite, and the Americans 
had no post in the rear. He therefore sent orders to Sumter to retire 
in the best manner he could, and proceeded himself with General Cas- 
well toward Charlotte, an open village on a plain, about sixty miles 
from the fatal scene of action. The Virginians, who knew nothing of 
the country they were in, involuntarily reversed the route they came, 
and fled, most of them, to Hillsborough. General Stevens followed 
them, and halted there as many as were not sufficiently refreshed, be- 
fore his arrival, to pursue their way home. Their terms of service, 
however, being very short, and no prospect presenting itself to aflford 
another proof of their courage, General Stevens soon afterward dis- 
charged them. 

The North-Carolina militia fled diflferent ways, as their hopes led or 
their fears drove them. Most of them preferring the shortest way 
home, scattered through the wilderness which lies between the Wa- 
teree and Pedee rivers, and thence toward Roanoke. Whatever these 
might have suffered from the disaffected, they were probably not worse 
oft' than those who retired the way they came — wherein they met 
many of their friends, armed, and advancing to join the American army ; 
but, learning its fate from the refugees, they acted decidedly in concert 
with the victors — and capturing some, plundering others, and maltreat- 
ing all the fugitives they met, returned exultingly home. They even 
added taunts to their perfidy : one of a party, who robbed Brigadier- 



376 APPENDIX. 

General Butler of his sword, consoled him by saying, " You'll have no 
further use for it." 

The regular troops, it has been observed, were the last to quit the 
field. Every corps was broken and dispersed ; even the bogs and brush, 
which in some ineasure served to screen them from their furious pur- 
suers, separated them from one another. Major Anderson was the 
only officer who fortunately rallied, as he retreated, a few men of dif- 
ferent companies, and whose prudence and firmness afforded protection 
to those who joined his party on the route. 

Colonel Gunby, Lieutenant-Colonel Howard, Captain Kirkwood, 
and Captain Dobson, with a few other officers, and fifty or sixty men, 
formed a junction on the route, and proceeded together. 

The general order for moving off the heavy baggage, &c., to Wax- 
haws, was not put in execution, as directed to be done, on the prece- 
ding evening. The whole of it consequently fell into the hands of the 
enemy, as well as all that which followed the army, except the wagons of 
General Gates and De Kalb, which, being furnished with the stoutest 
horses, fortunately escaped, under the protection of a small quarter- 
guard. Other wagons also had got out of danger from the enemy ; but 
the cries of the women and the wounded in the rear, and the conster- 
nation of the flying troops, so alarmed some of the wagoners, that they 
cut out their teams, and taking each a horse, left the rest for the next 
that should come. Others were obliged to give up their horses to as- 
sist in carrying off the wounded ; and the whole road for many miles 
was strewed with signals of distress, confusion, and dismay. 
~ What added not a little to this calamitous scene was the conduct of 
Armand's legion. They were principally foreigners, and some of them 
probably not unaccustomed to such scenes. Whether it was owing to 
the disgust of the colonel at general orders, or the cowardice of his 
men, is not with the writer to determine ; but certain it is that the le- 
gion did not take any part in the action of the 1 6th ; they retired early 
and in disorder, and were seen plundering the baggage of the array on 
their retreat. One of them cut Captain Lemar, of the Maryland in- 
fantry, over the hand, for attempting to reclaim his own portmanteau, 
which the fellow was taking out of the wagon. Captain Lemar was 
unarmed, having broken his sword in action, and was obliged to sub- 
mit both to the loss and to the insult. The tent-covers were thrown 
oft* the wagons generally, and the baggage exposed, so that one might 
take what suited him to carry oft*. General Caswell's mess-wagon 
afforded the best refreshment : very unex})ectedly to the writer, he 
there found a pipe of good Madeira, broached and surrounded by a 
number of soldiers, whose appearance led him to inquire what engaged 
their attention. He acknowledges that in this instance he shared the 
booty, and look a draught of wine, which was the only refreshment he 
had received that day. 

But the catastrophe being over, -before we pursue a detail of all its 
distressing consequences, it may be excusable to consider whether the 



SOUTHERN ARMY CAMPAIGN OF 1780. 377 

measures which led to the necessity of fighting a general battle were 
justifiable, and whether such an event might not have been avoided at 
almost any time before the two armies were actually opposed. 

If General Gates intended to risk a general action, conscious of all 
circumstances, he certainly made that risk under every possible disad- 
vantage ; and a contemplation of those circumstances would seem to 
justify Colonel Armand's assertion, made in the afternoon of the day 
in which the battle was fought : " I will not," said he, " say that we 
have been betrayed ; but if it had been the purpose of the general to 
sacrifice his army, what could he have done more effectually to have 
answered that purpose 1" 

General Gates, however, notwithstanding his after order of the 15th, 
had, in the opinion of most of his officers, and particularly of the writer, 
no more apprehension of meeting the enemy in force than the least- 
informed man of his army. The circuitous route, first recommended 
to him, would certainly have been the safest and best. Magazines, an 
armory, a hospital, and even fortified posts, might have been estab- 
lished, without halting the effective force of the army — posts to which 
they might, in case of disaster, have retired under protection of the 
patriotic militia of Mecklenburg and Roan counties, who only wanted 
time to join the army in respectable numbers. Such at least were 
their subsequent declarations, and such their subsequent conduct ren- 
dered most probable. 

But, even on the route the army had marched, the danger of meet- 
ing an enemy of equal or superior force was passed when they got into 
the vicinity of the Wateree, and in the neighborhood of their friends. 
It was only necessary for General Gates to have been informed of the 
march of Lord Cornwallis from Charleston, to have avoided, almost as 
long as he pleased, a conflict between the two armies. 

In the opinion of the writer it was not too late, even after Lord 
Cornwallis reached Camden. If, instead of meeting him involuntarily, 
General Gates had been informed of his intended movement, and qui- 
etly in the afternoon of the 15th have followed with his whole army 
the detachment under Woolford, over the Wateree, it would have been 
impossible for the armies to have met until the next day, and after the 
success of Sumter's expedition. If his lordship should then have thought 
of forcing a passage over the Wateree, General Gates would have had 
the alternative of opposing him under that disadvantage, or of retiring 
to any position he might prefer higher up the river. Lord Cornwallis 
could not have adventured the passage of the river much above Gates's 
army, because, the river being fordable in many places, his garrison and 
magazines at Camden would have been jeoparded : the forces he could 
afford to leave for its defence would have been insufficient for half a 
day ; and, if the^os^ and its stores had been gained by the Americans, 
the British army, destitute of supplies, would have been obliged to re- 
tire toward Charleston. On the other hand, if his lordship should 
keep his post in his rear, he must consequently leave the communica- 
32* 



S78 APPENDIX. 

tion open between the American army and their friends in the upper 
country, which would have rendered more practicable the avoiding of 
a generarengagement. But these are subsequent reflections on meas- 
ures, the idea of which perhaps never occurred nor was suggested to 
the general. Involved as he was in the necessity of fighting, the dis- 
position which was made for battle, after the alarm, was perhaps un- 
exceptionable, and as well adapted to the situation as if the ground 
had been reconnoitred and chosen by the ablest officer in the army of 
the United States. (It was afterward approved by the judicious and 
gallant General Greene, to whom the writer had the solemn pleasure 
of showing the field of battle, and with whom lie had the additional 
mortification of participating the danger and disgrace of a repulse near 
the same place, the very next campaign.) 

The only apology that General Gates condescended to make to the 
army for the loss of the battle was, " A man may pit a cock, but he 
can't make him fight ; the fate of battle is uncontrollable" — and such 
other common maxims as admit of no contradiction. 

It is, however, morally certain, considering the disposition of the 
citizens generally, and the respectable body of militia that had already 
joined the army, that time was, of all things, the most important to 
the success of General Gates's army. 

Lord CornwalJis, conscious of this truth, and of the disadvantage 
which the least lapse would prove to him, seized the first moment to 
hasten the decision of an experiment which was to gain or lose the 
country, for that season at least — perhaps for ever. 

Generals Gates and Caswell arrived at Charlotte on the night of the 
action. The ensuing morning presented nothing to them but an open 
village, with but few inhabitants, and the remains of a temporary hos- 
pital, containing a few maimed soldiers of Colonel Buford's unfortu- 
nate corps, which had been cut to pieces on the retreat, after the sur- 
render of Charleston. 

General Caswell was requested to remain there, to encourage the 
militia of the country, who were to rendezvous there in three days 
(as it was first intended), to countenance the reassembling of the Amer- 
ican army. General Gates perceived no eflfectual succor short of Hills- 
borough, where the general assembly of North Carolina were about to 
convene ; thither he repaired with all possible expedition, and was fol- 
lowed the next day by General Caswell, who despaired of the meeting 
of the militia — probably because he thought that their first object, the 
army, was annihilated. 

On the two days succeeding the fatal action, Brigadier-General Gist, 
who commanded the second brigade of Maryland troops previous to its 
misfortune at Charlotte, arrived with only two or three attendants, who 
had fallen into his route. Several field officers and many officers of 
the line also arrived, similarly circumstanced ; and, although not more 
than about a dozen men of dilTercnt corps arrived in irregular squads 
from time to time, not less than one hundred infantry were collected in 



SOUTHERN ARMY CAMPAIGN OF 1780. 379 

the village within that time, besides Armand's cavalry, v^^hich was very 
little reduced, and a small corps of mounted militia, which retired from 
the Waxhaw settlement, under the command of Major Davy, an en- 
terprising and gallant young man who had been raising volunteer cav- 
alry to join the army. Very few of the fugitive militia resorted to this 
place. 

Fortunately, there was a small supply of provisions in the town ; the 
inhabitants did all they could to refresh both men and officers; and by 
the provident care of Colonel Hall, of Maryland, a quantity of flour was 
sent back on the route of the retreating troops. 

Brigadier-General Smallwood, who had the honor of the second line, 
or corjjs cle reserve, assigned him in the late action, deliberately came 
in on the morning (or about noon) of the 18lh, escorted by one of his 
aids-de-camp, two or three other gentlemen, and about as many sol- 
diers, all mounted. His route was by way of the Wateree. 

The small squads assembled by Major Anderson and the other offi- 
cers already mentioned were on the direct route. The latter were not 
yet arrived, but were hourly expected ; and afforded, in addition to those 
already collected and those with Colonel Sumter, a prospect of forming 
such a body as might still encourage the militia to form at least the sem- 
blance of an army, which might keep up some appearance of opposition 
until the resources of the Union could be called forth by Congress or 
by the states most immediateiy interested. 

An incident which occasioned great distress the next day must be 
here related. It has been observed that many of the wagoners and 
retreating troops accelerated their flight by taking horses from the wag- 
ons which were left on the route. In this way many wounded officers 
and soldiers made their escape, and bore with astonishing fortitude the 
pains incident to their situation. They gave, indeed (some of them), 
proofs of the utmost pain and fatigue that the human constitution can 
bear ; others sank under their accumulated distresses. Those who ar- 
rived at Charlotte were taken the best possible cai-e of; the horses were 
turned out to graze in the adjacent fields, no forage being provided. 
It should have been remarked that the tribe of Catawba Indians, good 
friends to the Americans, quitted their villages on the Wateree, and 
followed the remnant of the army toward the town of Charlotte, where 
many of them had already arrived. Some of them, in their irregular 
way, fired a number of guns after nightfall on the 18th, which gave a 
very general alarm, and many of the people fled in the night, taking 
as many of the horses as they could find or had occasion for. 

Another incident, much more consequential ! The morning of the 
19th was fair, and the officers were assembling about the public square 
and encouraging one another with hopes of a more favorable course of 
aflfairs than had been current for some time past, when they received 
unquestionable information that Colonel Sumter, whose arrival they 
looked for every moment, was cojnpletely surprised the preceding day, 



380 APPENDIX. 

and the whole party killed, captured, or dispersed ! Dead or alive, he 
was censured for suffering a surprise. 

No organization nor order had yet been attempted to be restored 
among the few troops that had arrived in Charlotte ; the privates were 
therefore hastily formed into ranks, and the officers were among them- 
selves adjusting the commands to be taken by them respectively, when 
the number of supernumerary officers was discovered to be very con- 
siderable. Every one, however, took some charge upon himself. The 
care of the wounded, the collection of provisions, the transportation of 
the heavy baggage (preserved by Major Dean's small guard), and other 
matters which might in any way alleviate the general distress, engaged 
the attention of those who had no division of the men. 

There was no council, nor regular opinion taken respecting this irk- 
some situation. The general idea was that Charlotte, an open, wooded 
village, without magazines of any sort, without a second cartridge per 
man, and without a second ration, was not tenable for an hour against 
superior numbers which might enter at every quarter. Moreover, it 
was estimated by those who knew the geography of the country, that 
even the victorious enemy might be in the vicinity of the place. It 
was admitted by every one that no place could be more defenceless. 

Only one officer, who was of the legion, proposed a temporary de- 
fence, by pulling down the houses and forming a redoubt, which might 
induce the enemy to grant a capitulation. No respect was paid to this 
destructive proposition, and the first suggestion prevailed. 

Difficulties almost innumerable presented themselves to obstruct a 
march. Several officers with small parties were known to be on the 
route from Camden ; some refugees might possibly escape from Sum- 
ter's detachment; many of the wounded were obliged to be left in the 
old hospital, dependent probably on the enemy or on a few of the in- 
habitants who were unable to retire ; and even some who might have 
have got off on horseback were deprived of the means by the alarming 
incident of the preceding night. Were all these to be abandoned 1 

Time was never more important to a set of wretches than now ; but 
how to take it — whether " by the forelock," as the adage is, or wait its 
more propitious moments — none of us could decisively resolve. Brig- 
adier-General Smallwood, who quartered himself at a farmhouse a little 
way from town, appeared at this crisis approaching the parade in his 
usual slow pace. As senior officer, his orders would have been obeyed, 
even to setting about fortifying the village ; but being informed of what 
has just been related, and concurring in the general sentiment, he leis- 
urely put himself at ihe head of the party and moved off toward Salis- 
bury. The deputy adjutant-general and Brigade-Major Davidson took 
the route to Camden, in order to direct all they might meet to file off 
toward Salisbury. The small parties that had attached themselves to 
Colonel Gunby and Colonel Howard were met near town, and an ex- 
press was sent to Major Anderson, who had, to no purpose, spent some 
time in endeavors to Ijring off some wagons which had escaped beyond 



SOUTHERN ARMY CAMPAIGN OF 1780. 381 

the pursuit of the enemy and were left without horses. By noon a 
very lengthy line of march occupied the road from Charlotte to Salis- 
bury. It consisted of the wretched remnant of the late southern army, 
a great number of distressed whig families, and the whole tribe of Ca- 
tawba Indians (about three hundred in number, some fifty or sixty of 
whom were warriors, but indifferently armed). Among the rest were 
six soldiers who had left the hospitals with other convalescents ; they 
had all suffered in Buford's unfortunate affair, and had but two sound 
arms among them — indeed, four of them had not one arm among them, 
and two only an arm apiece : each of them had one linen garment. 
Those officers and men who were recently wounded, and had resolu- 
tion to undertake the fatigue, were difterently trarisported — some in 
wagons, some in litters, and some on horseback. Their sufferings were 
indescribable. The distresses of the wom.en and children who fled from 
Charlotte and its neighborhood — the nakedness of the Indians, and the 
number of their infants and aged persons — and the disorder of the 
whole line of march — conspired to render it a scene too picturesque 
and complicated for description. A just representation would exhibit 
an image of compound wretchedness ; care, anxiety, pain, poverty, 
hurry, confusion, humiliation, and dejection, would be characteristic 
traits in the mortifying picture. 

The inhabitants who had fled with their families soon began to dis- 
perse and take refuge among their friends in the interior of the coun- 
try. The Catawbas had a district of country assigned them for hunting- 
grounds in North Carolina. Brigadier-General Smallwood continued 
the march of the regular infantry to Salisbury, and arrived the third 
day after. Armand's legion proceeded as they threatened when it was 
resolved to evacuate Charlotte: "If," said one of the officers, "you 
will make de retreat, we will retreat faster dan you !" They proceeded 
to Hillsborough. The fertility of the country between Charlotte and 
Salisbury, the hospitality and benevolence of the inhahitants, and the 
numbers of their habitations on the route, afforded in many instances 
that relief which was requisite to preserve life, besides a liberal supply 
of provisions for all this cavalcade. 

It is not known whether, if the Americans had not evacuated Char- 
lotte, liord Cornwallis would not have made it an object to dispossess 
them; but as it was, his lordship contented himself with having de- 
feated the southern army, driven it out of South Carolina, and cut up 
the only detachment respectable enough to afford a head to which the 
patriots of the country might assemble. His lordship certainly gave 
the world another instance in proof of the assertion that it is not every 
general, upon whom fortune bestows her favors, who knows how to 
avail himself of all the advantages which are presented to him. Vic- 
tory is not always attended — perhaps never — with all the superiority it 
seems to bestow. The British army retired to Camden. 

So unexpected an event gave the poor Americans time to breathe. 
General Smallwood halted his party at Salisbury, selected about one 



382 APPENDIX. 

hundred and fifty effective men, and sent the remainder, perhaps fifty 
or sixty more, over the Yadkin river, with the wagons, women, &c. 
The effectives he otiicered according to his pleasure, and permitted the 
field officers, particularly those who had not formerly belonged to his 
brigade, to proceed to Hillsborough. Hall, Williams, and Howard, 
were of the number, who availed themselves at their leisure of this 
permission. At Salisbury, one hundred and twenty or thirty miles 
from the scene of the late action, Smallwood took time to dictate those 
letters which he addressed to Congress, and in which he intimated the 
great difficulties he had encountered and the exertions he had made to 
save a remnant of General Gates's army — letters which, with the aid 
of those he addressed to his friends in power, procured him, it was gen- 
erally believed in the line, the rank of i7iaj(jr-genera\ in the army of 
the United States, and which probably prompted the resolution of 
Congress directing an inquiry into the conduct of General Gates. But 
many of the officers wrote to their friends from Salisbury, and being 
chagrined and mortified at not overtaking their commanding general in 
so long a retreat, expressed themselves with great disgust and freedom. 

Major Anderson, who casually heard of the retreat of the detachment 
that had surprised Sumter, proceeded to Charlotte, where he found the 
militia inspirited by a change of circumstances, disposed to organize 
themselves, and form such corps as might protect the country from the 
incursions of the enemy, which might be expected from Camden. They 
requested the major to remain at Charlotte, and through him invited 
General Smallwood to return, importuning him, and even offering him 
the chief command of the militia of Mecklenburg — General Caswell, 
Iheir countryman, having, as they alleged, abandoned them even before 
the expiration of the three days in which he had ordered them to as- 
semble at Charlotte. 

General Smallwood, however, decHned the honor of this mvitation, 
and sent orders to Major Anderson to join him without delay at Salis- 
bury ; and in order that these instructions might not be dispensed with 
on any pretence whatever, Lieutenant-Colonel Ford, the particular 
friend of Anderson, was charged with them and with directions to ex- 
pedite the march of the party. The order was executed, and the mor- 
tified militia were left to depend upon their own exertions and their 
own fortitude, which, notwithstanding the discouragements they had 
met with, did not fail. They assembled, formed themselves into small 
partisan corps — and actually combated successfully the first detach- 
ments of the enemy that afterward came into their country. These 
are facts which entitle the patriots of Mecklenburg and Waxhaws to a 
whole page of eulogium in the best history that shall record the cir- 
cumstances of the revolution. 

The unfortunate General Gates, at Hillsborough, wliere the assem- 
bly of the state had convened, hearing from the officers who arrived 
there that the disasters of the army were not so completely ruinous as 
he had at first apprehended, applied himself assiduously to the Icgisia- 



\ 



SOUTHERN ARMY EVENTS SUBSEQUENT TO 1780. 383 

ture foi- the supplies necessary to re-equip the regular troops. But 
what supplies, or rather the quantum, that would be requisite, the gen- 
eral could not ascertain, having received no returns or reports of any 
kind from General Smallwood, who seemed to assume the command 
of the army. 

In order therefore to obtain the requisite information, and to decide 
at once the doubt about command, General Gates wrote explicitly to 
General Smallwood, and ordered him to pass the Yadkin river with all 
the men under his command, and to proceed on the direct route to 
Hillsborough. This order had been anticipated : it was received by 
General Smallwood after he had passed the Yadkin and was on his 
march to Guilford Courthouse, on the route directed. At Guilford the 
troops were halted for refreshment; and, as there was a great plenty 
of provisions in the neighborhood, General Smallwood, without regard- 
ing the instructions he had received from General Gates, wrote to the 
assemhly of the .sto^e, intimating that, with /Ae/r approbation, he would 
continue there until other arrangements should be resolved on. The 
assembly properly declined interfering in matters which might involve 
a question of authority between two continental officers, and referred 
the proposition of General Smallwood to General Gates. General 
Gates did not entirely disapprove of the execution of the proposition, 
but in his letter to General Smallwood he required that certain returns, 
&c., should be forwarded to him without delay, and gave such explicit 
intimations that he was not disposed to relinquish his command of the 
southern army, as to induce General Smallwood to suspend for the 
present his hopes of succeeding thereto. He therefore marched imme- 
diately to Hillsborough, where he arrived with the tattered remains of 
the army early in the month of September. Thus ended the campaign 
of 1780. 



A NARRATIVE OF EVENTS RELATIVE TO THE SOUTHERN ARMY, SUBSEQUENT 
TO THE ARRIVAL OF GENERAL GATES'S BROKEN BATTALIONS AT HILLS- 
BOROUGH, 1780. 

HiLLSBOKouGH had been a place of rendezvous for all the militia 
raised in the interior of North Carolina, and a stage of refreshment for 
all the troops which had marched from the northward to succor Charles- 
ton or reinforce the southern army ; consequently the resources of the coun- 
try had been collecled and generally applied. What remained did not af- 
ford an ample supply even for the fugitives of the late army, which were 
now collected in the town, and were cantoned, some in the houses of the 
inhabitants, and some in tents pitched near the courthouse, where the 
assembly of the state was convened. The assembly saw and regretted 
the wants of the-troops, and did all that was then practicable for their 
relief. A comfortable supply of fresh moat, corn-meal, and wheat-flour, 
was procured for the hospital, and the rest of the men were subsisted 
by provisions furnished by state commissaries in part and partly by the 



384 APPENDIX. 

old expedient of collecting by detachments — an expedient which gave 
great umbrage to the country. 

At this time Lord Cornwallis was with the principal part of his army 
at Camden, where his own wounded and those of the American army 
were very differently treated. 

The worse than savage system of severity suggested by the malice 
of the king's minister, or conceived by the malignity of the king him- 
self, which had been so fatally practised upon the prisoners in New 
York and Philadelphia, was now practised with equal barbarity on the 
prisoners taken in the southern department. Everywhere they were 
treated with cruel neglect or insolent severity. The difference of cli- 
mates made some difference in consequences. 

The same treatment, or rather worse, was suffered by the inhabitants 
of the country who had ever been in arms, or were even suspected of 
disloyalty. Some who were accused of having received protections and 
violated the conditions were hung without any form of trial ! Prompt 
punishments for supposed crimes were inflicted at the will of superior 
officers in the different British garrisons, and every measure was adopted 
which the arrogance of power could devise, to subjugate the minds as 
well as the privileges of the people. The want of energy in the union 
of the United States and the imbecility of the states themselves gave 
great latitude to the effect of the British measures. Their emissaries 
were in all parts of the countr}^, and were but too successful in the 
lower counties of North Carolina, where the inhabitants, except in and 
near the seaport towns, began to be generally disafiected to the Ameri- 
can cause. Even in Chatham county a considerable body took arms 
and threatened to disperse the assembly of the state from Hillsborough. 
Indeed, so serious was the alarm upon this occasion, that to guard 
against a surprise of the town on a night when the insurgents were 
confidently expected, all the troops were kept under arms the whole 
night. As no arrangement had yet taken place, General Gates de- 
sired Colonel Williams to command them. The inhabitants were or- 
dered to arm, and even the members of the assembly thought it incum- 
bent on them to arm themselves also. The following fact may illustrate 
their character, as well for patriotism as soldiership : — 

It was requested that a regular officer would lend his assistance in 
arranging the militia. The members of the assembly were collected 
near the courthouse (the seat of government), and were arming them- 
selves when the officer arrived, who, taking them for the militia who 
stood in need of an adjutant, began the exercise of that office, and mar- 
shalled then) in a manner which showed no respect for them as legis- 
lators. No exception, however, was taken to the conduct of the officer. 
The circumstance was mentioned afterward, only as one of those ludi- 
crous incidents (and there were many) which occurred during the night 
of the alarm. Although the alarm proved false, it proved no less cer- 
tain that the enterprise might have been effected by a few brave men, 
even on that very night. 'I'he hurry and confusion which it occa- 



SOUTHERN ARMY EVENTS SUBSEQUENT TO 1780. 385 

sioned discovered the expediency of re-establishing order among the 
troops, and every other man seemed to feel the obligation of giving his 
assistance as v^rell to provide for present necessities as against future 
contingencies. Influenced by motives not to be disregarded, the gov- 
ernment of North CaroUna soon began to exert all its powers. The 
second class of the militia were ordered to assemble immediately ; com- 
missaries, quartermasters, and agents, with extensive powers, were ap- 
pointed to procure every article requisite for another campaign ; and, 
for want of funds (for the paper-money of the United States was now 
depreciated below calculation), these officers were authorized to take, 
on the account of government, all military stores, arms, provisions, 
clothing, &c., that were to be found, and to grant receipts or certificates 
for the same. 

Notwithstanding that the disasters of the southern army, and a sense 
of common danger, had seemingly obliterated all recollection of former 
differences and animosities among the officers of the regular corps, it 
ought not to be dissembled that such were among the causes which, 
for a little time, postponed the new organization of the troops. 

What cause General Gates had to apprehend being superseded in 
the command of the southern army, may be conjectured by those who 
have a knowledge of the facts ; but what reason General Smallwood 
could have to hope to become his successor, none who are not grossly 
imposed on can possibly imagine. 

The misunderstanding between these two officers was never, I be- 
lieve, avowed ; but, as Gates reassumed his command, Smallwood retired 
from it. 

General Gist was not ambitious of the command of men so circum- 
stanced ; and, in fact, many other officers wished for an opportunity of 
returning home without a laurel or a scar. 

A board of officers, convened by order of General Gates, determined 
that all the effective men should be formed into two battalions, consti- 
tuting one regiment, to be completely officered, and provided for in the 
best possible manner that circumstances would admit. The sick and 
convalescent were to remain, but all the invalids were to be sent home ; 
and the supernumerary officers were to repair to their respective states, 
to assist in the recruiting service. 

The command of the newly-formed regiment was given to Colonel 
Williams and Lieutenant-Colonel Howard. Majors Anderson and 
Hardman commanded the battalions. 

No sooner were these officers invested with command, than they 
began to restore order and discipline among the troops ; and the colonel, 
who was inspector of the Maryland division of the army of the United 
States (comprehending the quota of Delaware also), demanded a gen- 
eral order, before any of the officers should depart, for the most correct 
returns that could be made under present circumstances, accounting as 
well for the men as for their arms, accoutrements, &c., &c. The latter 
part of the order could not be complied with in any satisfactory degree ; 
33 



386 APPENDIX. 

but after some time, the officers, by comparing notes and recollecting 
circumstances, rendered returns, from which the following abstracts 
were taken : — 

Total of Maryland troops ; Three colonels, four lieutenant-colonels, 
five majors, thirty-eight captains, fifty subalterns, twenty-four staff-offi- 
cers, eighty-five non-commissioned officers, sixty-two musicians, and 
seven hundred and eighty-one rank and file. 

The numbers which were killed, captured, and missing, since the 
last muster, could not with any accuracy be ascertained. The aggre- 
gate was — three heutenant-colonels, two majors, fifteen captains, thir- 
teen subalterns, two staff-officers, fifty-two non-commissioned officers, 
thirty-four musicians, and seven hundred and eleven rank and file. 
These, at least a very great majority of them, and all of them for aught I 
know, fell in the field, or into the hands of the enemy, on the fatal 16th 
of August, It is extremely probable that the number killed much ex- 
ceeded the number taken prisoners. 

The Delaware regiment being mustered, the returns stood thus : Four 
captains, seven subalterns, three staff-officers, nineteen non-commissioned 
officers, eleven musicians, and one hundred and forty-five rank and file, 
in actual service, &c., &c., &c. Eleven commissioned officers and thirty- 
six privates of the Delaware regiment fell into the hands of the enemy. 

These details may not be unessential to those who have been con- 
cerned in the affairs of the late campaign, and may give satisfaction to 
those of my friends who may wish hereafter to have a true knowledge 
of circumstances. 

The inhabitants of Hillsborough soon began to experience and com- 
plain of the inconvenience of having soldiers billeted among them ; and 
the officers were equally sensible of the difficulty of restraining the 
licentiousness of the soldiers, when not immediately under their obser- 
vation. Williams therefore drew his regiment out of town, distributing 
the few tents he had among the several companies. He encamped on 
a vacant farm, or rather in the woodland belonging to it, and covered 
his men with wigwams made of fence-rails, poles, and corn-tops, regu- 
larly disposed. The tents were chiefly occupied by the officers, but as 
they were all much worn, wigwams were soon preferred, on account 
of their being much warmer. 

The usual camp guards and sentinels being posted, no person could 
come into or go out of camp without a permit. Parade duties were 
regularly attended, as well by officers as soldiers, and discipline not 
only began to be perfectly restoi'ed, but even gave an air of stability 
and confidence to the regiment, which all their rags could not disguise. 
In this encampment no circumstance of want or distress was admitted 
as an excuse for relaxing from the strictest discipline, to which the sol- 
diers the more cheerfully submitted, as they saw their officers constantly 
occupied in procuring for them whatever was attainable in their situ- 
ation. 

Absolutely without pay, almost destitute of clothing, often with only 



SOUTHERN ARMY EVENTS SUBSEQUENT TO 1780. 387 

a half ration, and never with a whole one (without substituting one 
article for another), not a soldier was heard to murmur after the third 
or fourth day of their being encamped. Instead of meeting and con- 
ferring in small, sullen squads, as they had formerly done, they filled 
up the intervals from duty with manly exercises and field-sports ; in 
short, the officers had very soon the entire confidence of the men, who 
divested themselves of all unnecessary care, and devoted themselves to 
duty and pastime, within the limits assigned them. 

The docility and contentment of the troops were the more extraor- 
dinary, as they were not unfrequently reminded (when permitted to go 
into the country) how differently the British troops were provided for. 

The article of rum, the most desirable refreshment to soldiers, was 
mentioned among other inducements for them to desert ; but so great 
was their fidelity to the cause, or so strong their attachment to their 
fellow sufferers and soldiers, that they not only rejected the most flat- 
tering propositions to go over to the enemy, but they absolutely brought 
some of the most bold and importunate incendiaries into camp, who 
were delivered to the civil authority, and some of them punished. 

If any of my friends should inquire why I descend to particulars so 
minute and unimportant, I answer that I am not writing a history of 
the revolution, nor of the proceedings of government ; and that it is 
not unimportant for any officer to observe every incident in the life 
and conduct of a soldier which may in any degree serve to illustrate 
his disposition. The general characteristic of a corps should never be 
mistaken, by the commanding officer especially. Misunderstandings 
often arise from it, and the consequences are usually what might be 
expected — unfavorable to both officers and men. 

The legion commanded by Armand was, on the 8th of September, 
sent to forage and make cantonments in Warren county, whence Ar- 
mand went to Philadelphia, and never returned. 

General Gates did not conceal his opinion that he held cavalry in no 
estimation in the southern field. If he judged by the conduct of the 
legion, he ought to have confined his opinion to that corps particularly, 
for subsequent experience has evinced that no opinion could have been 
more erroneous. 

Two brass field-pieces, which General Gates had left under a small 
guard at Buffalo ford, for want of horses, the first day of his march 
after taking the command, were brought to camp with a few iron 
pieces picked up at Hillsborough, and formed a little park in the centre 
of the ragged regiment of Maryland and Delaware troops, which con- 
stituted the southern army until the 16th of September, when Colonel 
Buford arrived from Virginia with the mangled remains of his unfor- 
tunate regiment, reinforced by alx)ut two hundred raw recruits, all of 
them in a ragged condition. Uniforms and other clothing were to be 
sent after them, but never arrived. 

About the same time a small detachment of Virginia militia arrived, 
without even arms. 



388 APPENDIX. 

On the 18th, the relics of Porterfield's corps, about fifty effective 
men, arrived under the command of Captain Drev^r, and joined Buford. 
Thus the remainder of those corps which had been recently cut to 
pieces, without being recruited or refurnished with clothing, camp equi- 
page, &c., necessary for a campaign, were hastily assembled to form the 
head of an army to act against their conquerors. 

The body of the proposed army was to consist of militia — the second 
class principally of those very militia who had so shamefully abandoned 
some of these same regulars at Camden but a few weeks before. 

Confident hopes were, notwithstanding, entertained that the interior 
of the two Carolinas might be defended from the ravages of the enemy 
until Congress might gain time and find means to do something more 
effectual. 

The officers and the men began to recover their usual spirits. Brig- 
adier-General Smallwood, weary of waiting events at obscure quarters, 
and dissatisfied (as every officer of real merit naturally is) of rank 
without command in time of war, suggested that, as there were two 
nominal regiments and a company of artillery encamped, a nominal 
brigade might be formed, of which he claimed the command, and was 
gratified. Captain Anthony Singleton, of Virginia, commanded the 
artillery. 

About this time, Colonel Morgan, of Virginia, whose heroic conduct 
under General Montgomery at Quebec, General Gates at Saratoga, and 
in other meritorious actions, will secure him an honorable page in the 
history of the war in the north, arrived at camp, without command, and 
with only two or three young gentlemen attending him. 

The perfect security which Lord Cornwallis imagined resulted to 
his posts and to the communications between them, and the presump- 
tion that all the lower part of the country was in a state of absolute 
subjection and tranquillity, in consequence of his extraordinary not to 
say accidental success, induced him to send a small guard from Cam- 
den to convey one hundred and fifty of his prisoners, principally regu- 
lars, to Charleston. 

Colonel Marion, of South Carolina, who has been mentioned in the 
previous part of these narratives, and who ought always to be men- 
tioned with respect, had been stimulating his countrymen to act in 
concert with General Gates, until after the unfortunate 16th of August, 
when he and his followers were obliged to secrete themselves in the 
swamps and deserts which intersect a considerable part of the lower 
country. From one of these hiding-places Marion suddenly fell upon 
the British guard, surprised, and made the whole of them prisoners. 
He paroled the officers, and took a list of the privates to be exchanged. 
The American soldiers he sent off, with proper guides, to Wilmington, 
having first distributed among them the arms of their captors. A cir- 
cumstance so honorable for a small squad of militia, particularly for 
their commanding officer, ought long to be remembered with admira- 
tion. Marion and his men retook to the swamps. 



SOUTHERN ARMY EVENTS SUBSEQUENT TO 1780. 389 

On the report in camp of this fortunate event, Lieutenant-Colonel 
Commandant Ford, who had not availed himself of the permission for 
supernumeraries to return home, went to Wihnington to meet the re- 
leased captives, and to conduct them to camp ; but as they had been 
subject to very little or no control after their releasement, being with- 
out any of their own officers, and doubtmg of the existence of any con- 
siderable body of their fellow-soldiers, many of them repaired home 
with all the expedition they could make. Colonel Ford did not re- 
cover more than about one half of the number released by Marion ; 
and these, from their sufferings in captivity, their long and circuitous 
march from Camden to Wilmington, and thence by Cross creek to 
Hillsborough, and their want of almost all the necessaries of life, were 
very little fit for service. 

While the American troops were collecting at Hillsborough, meas- 
ures were taken by the state of North Carolina to expedite the embody- 
ing of the second class of their militia. 

To intimidate the people from complying with the requisitions of 
government to collect forage and provisions, and probably with an ex- 
pectation of striking terror through the country. Lord Cornwallis moved 
from Camden (in October) with a considerable body of troops, Ughtly 
equipped, which he led immediately to the town of Charlotte, and 
thence manoeuvred about the country as far north as Phifer's mills. 
But, although his lordship could and would go where he pleased, he 
found himself much less at ease in this part of the country than in any 
other situation he had experienced. The militia of Mecklenberg and 
of Roan, the most inflexible whigs in the whole state, were continually 
in his presence. He could make no movement without being ob- 
served ; no negligence could be committed on his part of which they 
did not take advantage. Major Davie, with his mounted volunteers, 
equipped as dragoons, sometimes intercepted his convoys of provis- 
ions, sometimes disturbed his pickets, and even once or twice in- 
sulted the van of his army on its march. These, however, were 
feeble and ineffectual resistances. His lordship could " go where he 



This incursion of his lordship into the strongest part of the state 
stimulated the exertions of the legislature in measures to organize and 
equip their militia for the field. They began to rendezvous in consid- 
erable numbers at Salisbury. Smallwood was complimented with a 
request of the executive to take command of them, Caswell's confi- 
dence in the courage of his countrymen not being yet restored ; and it 
was presumed that the militia would act w^ith more subordination and 
perhaps with more bravery under a continental general than under one 
of their own neighbors. After making some conditions about horses 
for himself and his suite, the general accepted the honor. 

At the same time it was contemplated to send forward as many of 
the regular troops as could be tolerably equipped for service ; and it 
fortunately happened that at that time the state agents had forwarded 
33* 



390 APPENDIX. 

to Hillsborough a small supply of coarse clothing and other articles 
convenient for the purpose. 

General Gates ordered a committee to attend to the equitable distri- 
bution of these stores among the regular corps. But first, an appro- 
priation was to' be made for equipping four companies of light infantry 
to be drafted from the regiments, and destined to form a part of the 
corps to be sent in advance. 

The execution of this part of the plan commenced on the 19th of 
October, the day the clothing arrived, and was very soon completed. 
The four companies of infantry were formed into one battalion, the 
command of which was obtained by Lieutenant-Colonel Howard. 

About the 2d of November, Lieutenant-Colonels White and Wash- 
mgton came to camp with a very few eifectives of the first and third 
regiments of dragoons, which had also been surprised, routed, defeated, 
and cut to pieces, the preceding spring. White had leave to go to 
Philadelphia, and Washington remained in command of the remnants 
of both corps, consisting of sixty or seventy eflfectives. 

These corps joined the light infantry on their march toward Char- 
lotte. A small corps of riflemen (say sixty), under Major Rose, had 
also joined the light infantry at Hillsborough. The gallant Colonel 
Morgan then took the command of all the light troops, and proceeded 
with them toward Charlotte. He found the militia, under Smallwood, 
advanced as far as the Old Trading ford on the Yadkin river, seven 
miles from Salisbury, in safety. Lord Cornwallis, without any known 
adequate cause, thought proper to retire through Charlotte, cross the 
Wateree river, and encamp at Winnsborough. It is not probable that 
he was deceived by any exaggerated account of the newly-levied mili- 
tia, nor is it probable that he had any fears from the relics of the corps 
which he had so recently cut to pieces. His lordship had been fa- 
tigued by the insolence of the volunteers, and chose to retire to a camp 
of repose. 

Colonel Williams succeeded General Smallwood in the command of 
the brigade of continental troops. The diminution of its numbers, by 
the draft of four companies of light infantry, was in part restored by 
the arrival of recruits from Maryland and Virginia. These were con- 
stantly at the drill. A laboratory was erected, and employed in mend- 
ing arms ; and the residue of the clothing, &c., was distributed. Each 
man in the brigade was supplied with one new shirt, a short coat, a 
pair of woollen overalls, a pair of shoes, and a hat or a cap. The 
dividend of blankets was very inadequate to the occasion ; they were 
apportioned to the companies : and every other practicable provision 
was made to prepare the brigade for the field. The officers exerted 
themselves, and the soldiers were emulous who should be the first in 
readiness to march. Even the convalescents were impatient of being 
left behind, so generally had the martial spirit revived in the soldiery. 

The brigade marched on the second day of November, immediately 
after the light dragoons, with two brass field-pieces, some ammunition- 



SOUTHERN ARMY EVENTS SUBSEQUENT TO 1780. 391 

wagons, and a small train of baggage. They followed the route of the 
light infantry to Charlotte, where they encamped. 

The militia under Smallwood had apparently taken a permanent 
position at Providence, about fourteen miles south of. Charlotte; and 
Morgan, now brigadier-general, was itinerant with his infantry about 
the Wateree. 

Lord Cornwallis continued with the principal part of his forces at 
Winnsborough, and kept up the garrisons of Camden and Clermont. 

Such were the relative situations of the two armies, when General 
Greene arrived at Charlotte, on the 4th of December, 1780. 

Charlotte. — When General Gates had reviewed and contemplated 
his situation at Charlotte, he considered it the most eligible place to en- 
camp for the winter with the principal part of his army. The light 
troops were to keep the field, and to act as an advance-guard. With 
this view, he ordered preparations to be made for building huts, and 
directed General Morgan to make a foraging excursion toward Cam- 
den. On the very day of General Greene's arrival, and after he had 
assumed the command of the army, Morgan reported that he had made 
a tour into the country, in the vicinity of Camden, but found the cattle 
were taken off, and so little grain or forage left, as to make it scarcely 
worth the fatigue of the troops ; but that, fortunately, an event had 
taken place which made some compensation for their toil. 

Mr. Rugely, proprietor of the farm called Clermont, had obtained 
the rank of lieutenant-colonel in the British army, and had obtained 
that of major for his son-in-law. These two officers, with about one 
hundred British troops and new levies, occupied a large log barn (the 
old council-chamber), which they fortified by a slight entrenchment 
and a line of abattis, so as to render it impregnable to small-arms. 
This post was on the left of Morgan's route, as he returned firom for- 
aging, but too near to Camden for him to risk anything like a siege or 
blockade. It was suggested that the cavalry might go and reconnoitre 
it. Washington, pleased with the idea, approached so near as to as- 
certain that the enemy had discovered him and were intimidated. He 
humorously ordered his men to plant the trunk of an old pine-tree, in 
the manner of a field-piece, pointing toward the garrison ; at the same 
time, dismounting some of his men to appear as infantry, and display- 
ing his cavalry to the best advantage, he sent a corporal of dragoons 
to summon the commanding officer to an immediate surrender. The 
order was executed in so firm a manner, that Colonel Rugely did not 
hesitate to comply instantly ; and the whole garrison marched out 
prisoners-of-war. 

The corporal was made a sergeant of dragoons ; the old fort was set 
on fire ; and Washington retired with his prisoners without exchanging 
a shot. 

Soldiers, like sailors, have always a little superstition about them. 
Although neither General Gates nor General Greene could be con- 
sidered as having any agency in this little successful aflMr, it was re- 



392 APPENDIX. 

garded by some, and even mentioned, as a presage of the future good 
fortune which the army would derive from the genius of the latter. 
But I have superseded my old friend rather abruptly, and with almost 
as little ceremony as it was directed by Congress. As I approach the 
close of this narrative, I assume the epistolary style, in which I intend 
to make all my future remarks, as they may thus be more easily tran- 
scribed for communication. 

The letters which were addressed to Congress, respecting the over- 
throw of his whole army, were so vague and unsatisfactory, and others 
which were written were so disingenuous, that it was conceived by 
Congress absolutely requisite to have a full inquiry into the circum- 
stances of the campaign and the conduct of the commanding officer. 

General Washington was requested to nominate an officer to super- 
sede General Gates ; and it was resolved that a court of inquiry should 
be held, of which Major-General the Baron Steuben was appointed 
president. General Greene, whom General Washington distinguished 
by an election to the command of the southern army, arrived at head- 
quarters, as before observed, on the 4th of December, 1780, with fidl 
powers. 

A manly resignation marked the conduct of General Gates on the 
arrival of his successor, whom he received at headquarters with that 
liberal and gentlemanly air which was habitual to him. 

General Greene observed a plain, candid, respectful manner, neither 
betraying compassion nor the want of it ; nothing like the pride of offi- 
cial consequence even seemed. In short, the officers who were present 
had an elegant lesson of propriety exhibited on a most delicate and 
interesting occasion. 

General Greene was announced to the army as commanding officer 
by General Gates ; and the same day General Greene addressed the 
army, in which address he paid General Gates the compliment of con- 
firming all his standing orders. 

The detention of the baron Steuben in Virginia, and no major-gen- 
eral being present or authorized to serve in his stead, made it impracti- 
cable to hold the court of inquiry at this time or place. General Gates 
therefore, with the approbation of General Greene, repaired to Phila- 
delphia, in order to meet the charges and to counteract the calumnies 
against him. 

I can not conclude this narrative without remarking that a soldier's 
fame is always precarious during his life. If General Gates had fallen 
at the commencement of the action of Camden, who would not have 
acceded to the opinion that the disasters of the day were owing prin- 
cipally to that circumstance ? The laurels of Saratoga would have 
been ever green on his tomb, and history would have exulted in the 
merits of the hero ! 

What difference, in point of real merit, would there have been (or 
could there be) between falling by an early, accidental shot, or submit- 
ting to the irresistible impulse of the militia, who went like a torrent 



SOUTHERN ARMY EVENTS SUBSEQUENT TO 1780. 393 

from the field, forcing almost everything before them 1 And yet, what 
a difference in the public opinion ! Instead of praises, panegyric, and 
monumental honors, he was censured, calumniated, and even con- 
demned, unheard. 

The severity of this treatment was aggravated by a recent event, 
which was carefully kept from his knowledge while in camp, but 
which too soon overwhelmed him in distress. His only son, an ele- 
gant young man, well educated, and just entering into active scenes 
of life, was suddenly cut off by the stroke of death. 

None but an unfortunate soldier, and a father left childless, could 
assimilate his feelings to those of this unhappy gentleman ; yet many 
sympathized with him, remembered his former public services, wished 
for the return of tranquillity to his afflicted mind, and hoped even for a 
restoration of his honors. 

General Greene took great pains to collect the best information rela- 
tive to the circumstances of the late campaign ; and his communica- 
tions to influential characters finally determined Congress to rescind 
their resolution respecting General Gates, and to restore him to his 
command in the northern army. 



THE END. 



